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MRS.BUR 


N e: w o r k . 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SON 






iStiitions. 


MJ^S. BURNETT'S 

EARLIER STORIES. 

. BY 

FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. 


LINDSAY’S LUCK, Price, 30 cts. 

KATHLEEN, Price, 40 cts. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON, . . Price, 40 cts. 

THEO, Price, 30 cts. 

MISS CRESPIGNY, Price, 30 cts. 


*^*For sale by all booksellers^ or will be senl, ^osi paid^ 
upon receipt of the price by the publishers^ 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, 

743 AND 745 Broadway, New York. 


MRS. BURNETTS EARLIER STORIES. 


Miss Crespigny. 


BY 

/ 

FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT, 

Author of “Haworth’s,” “That Lass o’ Lowrie’s,” “Surly Tim 

AND OTHER StORIES.” 

3 ^ 



CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, 

743 & 745 Broadway, 



Copyright 

1879, 

By Charles Scribner’s Sons. 


New York : J. J. Little & Co., Printers, 
10 to 20 Astor Place. 


^3lutft0r’is KtiU. 


These love stories were written for and 
printed in ''Peterson's Ladies Magazine. " 
Owing to the fact that this magazine was 
not copyrighted, a number of them have 
been issued in book-form without my con- 
sent, and representing the sketches to be 
my latest work. 

If these youthful stories are to be 
read in book form, it is my desire that 
my friends should see the present edition, 
which I have revised for the purpose, and 
which is brought out by my own pub- 
lishers. 

Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

October ^ 1878. 




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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

Lisbeth 7 

CHAPTER 11. 

Another Gentleman of the Same Name. . . 17 

CHAPTER HI. 

Pansies for Thought 27 

CHAPTER IV. 

A Lunch Party 40 

CHAPTER V. 

Georgie Esmond 52 

CHAPTER VI. 

A Song 61 

CHAPTER VH. 

A New Experience 70 

CHAPTER VIIL 

I Will Tell You the Truth for Once 80 

5 


6 


Contents. 


CHAPTER IX. 

PAGE 

We Must Always be True 88 

CHAPTER X. 

Pen’yllan 96 

CHAPTER XL 

A Confession 104 

CHAPTER XII. 

A Visitor 114 

CHAPTER XIIL 

A Ghost 123 

CHAPTER XIV. 

It Might Have Been Very Sweet 132 

CHAPTER XV. 

We Won’t Go Yet 141 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Yes — TO Lisbeth 148 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Good-by 158 

CHAPTER XVHI. 

You Think I Have A Secret 171 

CHAPTER XIX. 

And That was the End of it 181 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTEK^. 

LIS BETH. ^ 

‘‘Another party?'' said Mrs. Despard. 

“ Oh yes ! " said Lisbeth. And, of course, 
a little music, and then a little supper, and a 
little dancing, and all that sort of thing." And 
she frowii^d impatiently. 

Mrs. Despard looked at her in some dis- 
pleasure. 

“You are in one of your humors, again, Lis- 
beth," she said, sharply. 

“ Why shouldn't I be ? " answered Miss 
Crespigny, not a whit awed by her patroness. 
“ People's humors are their privileges. I would 
not help mine if I could. I like them because 
they are my own private property, and no one 
else can claim them." 

“ I should hardly think any one would want 
to claim yours," said Mrs. Despard, dryly, but 

7 


8 Miss Crespigny, 

at the same time regarding the girl with a sort 
of curiosity. 

Lisbeth Crespigny shrugged her shoulders — 
those expressive shoulders of hers. A pecu- 
liar girl,” even the mildest of people called 
her, and as to her enemies, what did they not 
say of her ? And her enemies were not in the 
minority. But ‘‘ peculiar ” was not an unnatu- 
ral term to apply to her. She was peculiar.” 
Seeing her kneeling close before the fender this 
winter evening, one's first thought would have 
been that she stood apart from other girls. Her 
very type was her own, and no one had ever 
been heard to say of any other woman, she is 
like Ilisbeth Crespigny.” She was rather small 
of figure, she had magnificent hair ; her black 
brows and lashes were a wonder of beauty ; 
her eyes were dark, mysterious, supercilious. 
She often frightened people. She frightened 
modest people with her nerve and coolness, 
bold people with her savage sarcasms, quiet 
people with her moods. She had alarmed Mrs. 
Despard, occasionally, when she had first come 
to live with her ; but after three years, Mrs. 
Despard, who was strong of nerve herself, had 
become used to her caprices, though she had 
not got pver being curious and interested in 
spite of herself. 


Miss Crespigny. 


9 


She was a widow, this Mrs. Despard. She 
had been an ambitious nobody in her youth, 
and having had the luck to marry a reasonably 
rich man, her ambition had increased with her 
good fortune. She was keen, like Lisbeth, 
quick-witted and restless. She had no children, 
no cares, and thus having no particular ob- 
ject in life, formed one for herself in making 
herself pleasingly conspicuous in society. 

It was her whim to be conspicuous ; not in a 
vulgar way, however; she was far too clever 
for that. She wished to have a little social 
court of her own, and to reign supreme in it. 
It was not rich people she wanted at her enter- 
tainments, nor powerful people ; it was talented 
people — people, shall it be said, who would ad- 
mire her aesthetic soirees, and talk about her a 
little afterward, and feel the distinction of be- 
ing invited to her house. And it was because 
Lisbeth Crespigny was “ peculiar that she had 
picked her up. 

During a summer visit to a quaint, pictur- 
esque. village on the Welsh coast, she had 
made the acquaintance of the owners of a 
cottage, whose picturesqueness had taken her 
fancy. Three elderly maiden ladies were the 
Misses Tregarthyn, and Lisbeth was their 
niece, and the apple of each gentle spinster's 


10 


Miss Crespigny. 


eye. Poor, dear Philip’s daughter, ’’ and 
poor, dear Philip, who had been their half-bro- 
ther, and the idol of their house, had gone 
abroad, and seen the world,” and, after mar- 
rying a French girl, who died young, had died 
himself, and left Lisbeth to them as a legacy. 
And then they had transferred their adoration 
and allegiance to Lisbeth, and Lisbeth, as her 
manner was, had accepted it as her right, and 
taken it rather coolly. Mrs. Despard had found 
her, at seventeen years old, a restless, lawless, 
ambitious young woman, a young woman when 
any other girl would have been almost a child. 
She found her shrewd, well-read, daring, and 
indifferent to audacity; tired of the pictur- 
esque little village, secretly a trifle tired of be- 
ing idolized by the three spinsters, inwardly 
longing for the chance to try her mettle in the 
great world. Then, too, she had another rea- 
son for wanting to escape from the tame old 
life. In the dearth of excitement, she had been 
guilty of the weakness of drifting into what she 
now called an absurd ” flirtation, which had 
actually ended in an equally absurd engage- 
ment, and of which she now, not absurdly, as 
she thought, was tired. 

I scarcely know how it happened,” she 
said, with cool scorn, to Mrs. Despard, when 


Miss Crespigny, 


II 


they knew each other well enough to be confi- 
dential. It was my fault, I suppose. If I 
had let him alone, he would have let me alone. 
I think I am possessed of a sort of devil, some- 
times, when I have nothing to do. And he is 
such a boy,'' with a shrug, though he is ac- 
tually twenty-three. And then my aunts knew 
his mother when she was a girl. And so when 
he came to Pen'yllan, he must come here and 
stay with them, and they must encourage him 
to admire me. And I should like to know 
what woman is going to stand that." (^‘Wo- 
man, indeed! " thought Mrs. Despard.) ‘^And 
then, of course, he has some sense of his own, 
or at least he has what will be sense some day. 
And he began to be rather entertaining after a 
while ; and we boated, and walked, and talked, 
and read, and at last I was actually such a lit- 
tle fool as to let it end in a sort of promise, for 
which I was sorry the minute it was half made. 
If he had kept it to himself, it would not have 
been so bad ; but, of course, being such a boy- 
ish animal, he must confide in Aunt Millicent, 
and Aunt Millicent must tell the others ; and 
then they must all gush, and cry, and kiss me, 
as if everything was settled, and I was to be 
married in ten minutes, and bid them all an 
everlasting farewell in fifteen. So I began to 


12 


Miss Crespigny. 


snub him that instant, and have snubbed him 
ever since, in hopes he would get as tired of 
me as I am of him. But he won't. He does 
nothing but talk rubbish, and say he will bear 
it for my sake. And the fact is, I am begin- 
ning to hate him ; and it serves me right." 

She had always interested Mrs. Despard, but 
she interested her more than ever after this ex- 
planation. She positively fascinated her ; and 
the end of it all was, that when the lady left 
Pen'yllan, she carried Lisbeth with her. The 
Misses Tregarthyn wept, and appealed, and 
only gave in, under protest, at last, because 
Lisbeth was stronger than the whole trio. She 
wanted to see the world, she said. Mrs. Des- 
pard was fond of her. She had money enough 
to make her so far independent, that she could 
return when the whim seized her ; and she was 
tired of Pen'yllan. So, why should she not 
go ? She might only stay a month, or a week, 
but, however that was, she had made up her 
mind to see life. While the four fought their 
battle out, Mrs. Despard looked on and smiled. 
She knew Lisbeth would win, and of course 
Lisbeth did. She packed her trunk, and went 
her way. But the night before her departure 
she had an interview with poor Hector An- 
struthers, who came to the garden to speak to 


Miss Crespigny. 


13 


her, his boyish face pale and haggard, his sea- 
blue eyes wild and hollow with despair ; and, 
like the selfish, heartless, cool little wretch 
that she was, she put an end to his pleadings 
peremptorily. 

No ! she said. ‘‘ I would rather you would 
not write to me. I want to be let alone; and 
it is because I want to be let alone that I am 
going away from Pen yllan. I never promised 
one of the things you are always insisting that 
I promised. You may call me as many hard 
names as you like, but you can’t deny that ” 

‘‘ No ! ” burst forth the poor lad, in a frenzy. 
‘‘You did not promise, but you let me under- 
stand ” 

“Understand!” echoed his young tyrant. 
“ I tried hard enough to make you understand 
that I wanted to be let alone. If you had 
been in your right senses, you might have seen 
what I meant. You have driven me almost out 
of my mind, and you must take the conse- 
quences.” And then she turned away and left 
him, stunned and helpless, standing, watching 
her as she trailed over the grass between the 
lines of rose-bushes, the moonlight falling on 
her white dress and the little light-blue scarf 
she had thrown over her long, loose, dusky 
hair. 


14 


Miss Crespigny. 


Three years ago all this had happened, and 
she was with Mrs. Despard still, though of 
course she had visited Pen'yHan occasionally. 
She had not tired her patroness, if patroness 
she could’^be called. She was not the sort of 
girl to tire people of their fancy for her. She 
was too clever, too cool, too well-poised. She 
interested Mrs. Despard as much to-day as she 
had done in the first week of their acquaint- 
ance. She was just as much of a study for 
her, even in her most vexatious moods. 

Have you a headache asked Mrs. Des- 
pard, after a while. 

No,’' answered Lisbeth. 

Have you had bad news from Pen’yllan?’* 

Lisbeth looked up, and answered Mrs. Des- 
pard, with a sharp curiousness. 

How did you know I had heard from 
Pen’yllan?” she demanded. 

Oh ! ” said Mrs. Despard, ‘‘ I guessed so, 
from the fact that you seemed to have no other 
reason for being out of humor ; and lately that 
has always been a sufficient one.” 

“ I cannot see why it should be,” said Lis- 
beth, tartly. What can Pen’yllan have to do 
with my humor ? ” 

^‘But you have had a letter?” said Mrs. 
Despard. 


Miss Crespigny, 


15 


Yes ; from Aunt Clarissa. There is no bad 
news in it, however. Indeed, no news at all. 
How did I ever exist there?'' her small face 
lowering. 

‘‘You would not like to go back?" suggested 
Mrs. Despard. 

Lisbeth shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Would you like me to go back?" she ques- 
tioned. 

“I?" in some impatience. “You know, as 
well as I do, that I cannot do without you. 
You would never miss me, Lisbeth, as I should 
miss you. It is not your way to attach your- 
self to people." 

“ How do you know?" interposed Lisbeth. 
“ What can you know about me ? What can 
any one man or woman know of another? 
That is nonsense." 

“It is the truth, nevertheless," was the re- 
ply. “Whom were you ever fond of? Were 
you fond of the Misses Tregarthyn, who adored 
you? Were you fond of that poor boy, who 
was so madly in love with you? Have you 
! been fond of any of the men who made sim- 
! pletons of themselves, because you had fine 
eyes, and a soft voice, and knew, better than 
any other woman in the world, how to manage 
them? No ; you know you have not." 


i6 


Miss Crespigny. 


Lisbeth shrugged her shoulders again. 

‘‘Well, then, it is my way, I suppose,’' she : 
commented ; “ and my ways are like my hu- : 
mors, as you call them. So, we may as well ^ 
let them rest.” 

There was a pause after this ; then Lisbeth 
rose, and going to the table, began to gather : 
together the parcels she had left there when 5 
she returned from her shopping expedition. \ 

“You have not seen the dress?” she said. i 
“No.” I 

“ It is a work of art. The pansies are as ^ 
real as any that ever bloomed. They might 
have been just gathered. How well that wo- 
man understands her business ! ” ? 


Miss Crespigny, 


17 


CHAPTER II. 

ANOTHER GENTLEMAN OF THE SAME NAME. 

She went up stairs, after this, to her own 
room, a comfortable, luxurious little place, near 
Mrs. DesparcPs own apartment. A clear, bright 
fire burned in the grate, and her special sleepy- 
hollow chair was drawn before it ; and when 
she had laid aside her hat, and disposed of her 
purchases, she came to this chair, and seated 
herself in it. Then she drew the Pen’yllan 
letter from her pocket, and laid it on her lap, 
and left it there, while she folded her hands, 
and leaned back, looking at the fire dreamily, 
and thinking to herself. 

The truth is, that letter, that gentle, sweet- 
tempered, old-fashioned letter of Miss Clarissa's, 
stung the girl, worldly and selfish as she was. 
Three years ago she would not have cared 
much, but seeing the world " — ah ! the world 
had taught her a lesson. She had seen a great 
deal of this world, under Mrs. Despard's guid- 
ance. She had ripened marvelously ; she had 
grown half a score of years older; she had 
learned to be bitter and clear-sighted ; and now 


2 


1 8 Miss Crespigny. 

a curious mental process was going on with 
her. 

‘‘We shall never cease to feel your absence, 
my dear,'' wrote Miss Tregarthyn. “ Indeed, 
we sometimes say to each other, that we feel it 
more every day; but, at the same time, we 
cannot help seeing that our life is not the life 
one so young and attractive ought to live. It 
was not a congenial life for our poor dear old 
Philip, and how could it seem congenial to his 
daughter ? And if, by a little sacrifice, we can 
make our dear Lisbeth happy, ought we not 
to be more than willing to submit to it? We 
are so proud of you, my dear, and it delights 
us so to hear that you are enjoying yourself, 
and being so much admired, that when we re- 
ceive your letters, we forget everything else. 
Do you think you can spare us a week in the 
summer ? If you can, you know how it will 
rejoice us to see you, even for that short time," 
etc., etc., through half a dozen pages. 

And this letter now lay on Lisbeth's lap, as 
we have said, while she pondered over the con- 
tents moodily. 

“ I do not see," she said, at last, “ I do not 
see what there is in me for people to be so 
fond of." 

A loosened coil of her hair hung over her 


Miss Crespigny, 


19 


shoulder and bosom, and she took this soft and 
thick black tress, and began to twist it round 
and round her slender mite of a wrist with a 
sort of vindictive force. Where is the fasci- 
nation in me?” she demanded, of the fire, one 
might have thought. It is not for my amia- 
bility, it is not for my ‘ odd fine eyes, and 
odd soft voice,' as Mrs. Despard puts it, that 
those three women love me, and lay them- 
selves under my feet. If they were men,” with 
scorn, one could understand it. But women ! 
Is it because they are so much better than I 
am, that they cannot help loving something — 
even me? Yes it is!” defiantly. ‘‘Yes it 
is!” 

She was angry, and all her anger was against 
herself, or at least against the fate which had 
made her what she was. Lisbeth knew herself 
better than other people knew her. It was a 
fate, she told herself. She had been born cold- 
blooded and immovable, and it was not to be 
helped. But she never defended herself thus, 
when others accused her ; she would have 
scorned to do it. It was only against her own 
secret, restless, inner accusations that she 
deigned to defend herself. It was character- 
istic of her that she should brave the opinions 
of others, and feel rebellious under her own. 


20 


Miss Crespigny, 


What Lisbeth Crespigny thought in secret of 
Lisbeth Crespigny must have its weight. 

At last she remembered the dress lying upon 
the bed — the dress Lecomte had just sent 
home. She was passionately fond of dress, es- 
pecially fond of a certain striking, yet artistic 
style of setting, for her own unusually effective 
face and figure. She turned now to this new 
dress, as a refuge from herself. 

I may as well put it on now,’' she said. 
‘‘ It is seven o’clock, and it is as well to give 
one’s self plenty of time.” 

So she got up, and began her toilet leisurely. 
She found it by no means unpleasant to watch 
herself grow out of chrysalis form. She even 
found a keen pleasure in standing in the bril- 
liant light before the mirror, working patiently 
at the soft, cloud-like masses of her hair, un- 
til she had wound and twisted it into some 
novel, graceful fancifulness. And yet even this 
scarcely arose from a vanity such as the vanity 
of other women. 

She went down to the drawing-room, when 
she was dressed. She knew she was looking 
her best, without being told. The pale gray 
tissue, pale as a gray sea-mist, the golden- 
hearted, purple pansies with which it was 
lightly sown, and which were in her hair, and 


j 


Miss Crespigny. 


21 


on her bosom, and in her hands, suited her en- 
tirely. Her eyes, too, soft, dense, mysterious 
under their sweeping, straight black lashes — 
well, Lisbeth Crespigny’s eyes, and no other 
creature's. 

A first glance would tell me who had de- 
signed that dress," said Mrs. Despard. It is 
not Lecomte ; it is your very self, in every 
touch and tint." 

Lisbeth smiled, and looking down the length 
of the room, where she stood reflected in a 
mirror at the end of it, unfurled her fan, a 
gilded fan, thickly strewn with her purple pan- 
sies ; but she made no reply. 

A glass door, in the drawing-room, opened 
into a conservatory all aglow with light and 
bloom, and in this conservatory she was stand- 
ing half an hour later, when the first arrivals 
came. The door, a double one, was wide 
open, and she, in the midst of the banks and 
tiers of flowers, was bending over a vase of 
heliotrope, singing a low snatch of song. 

“The fairest rose blooms but a day, 

The fairest Spring must end with May, 

And you and I can only say, 

Good-by, good-by, good-by ! 


She just sang this much, and stopped. One 


22 Miss Crespigny, 

of the two people who had arrived was speak- 
ing to Mrs. Despard. She lifted her head, and 
listened. She could not see the speaker's face, 
because a tall, tropical-leaved lily interposed it- 
self. But the voice startled her uncomforta- 
bly. 

Who is that man ? ” she said, to herself. 

Who is that man ? " And then, without 
waiting another moment, she left the helio- 
trope, and made her way to the glass door. 

Mrs. Despard looked first, and saw her 
standing there. 

Ah, Lisbeth," she said, and then turned, 
with a little smile, toward the gentleman who 
stood nearest to her. Here is an old friend," 
she added, as Lisbeth advanced. ^^You are 
indebted to Mr. Lyon for the pleasure of see- 
ing Mr. Anstruthers again." 

Lisbeth came forward, feeling as if she was 
on the verge of losing her anliable temper. 
What was Hector Anstruthers doing here? 
What did he want ? Had he been insane 
enough to come with any absurd fancy that — 
that he could — that — . But her irritated hesi- 
tance carried her no farther than this. The 
young man met her halfway, with the greatest 
self-possession imaginable. 

This is an unexpected pleasure," he said, 


Miss Crespigny, 23 

holding out his hand frankly. I was not 
aware, when Lyon brought me to his friend's, 
that I should find you here." 

All this, as complacently, be it observed, as 
if he had been addressing any other woman in 
the world ; as if that little affair of a few years 
ago had been too mere a bagatelle to be 
remembered ; as if his ’ boyish passion, and 
misery, and despair, had faded utterly out of 
his mind. 

Mrs. Despard smiled again, and watched her 
young friend closely. But if Lisbeth was 
startled and annoyed by the too apparent 
change, she was too clever to betray herself. 
She was a sharp, secretive young person, and 
had her emotions well under control. She 
held out her hand with a smile of her own — a 
slow, well-bred, not too expressive affair, not 
an effusive affair, by any means. 

Delighted, I am sure ? " she said. I have 
just been reading a letter from Aunt Clarissa, 
and naturally it has prepared me to be doubly 
glad to see one of her special favorites." 

After that the conversation became general, 
Anstruthers somehow managing to take the 
lead. Lisbeth opened her eyes. Was this the 
boy she had left in the moonlight at Pen'yl- 
lan ? The young simpleton who had been at 


24 


Miss Crespigny. 


her feet on the sands, spouting poetry, and 
adoring her, and making himself her grateful 
slave ? The impetuous, tiresome lad, who had 
blushed, and raved, and sighed, and, in the 
end, had succeeded in wearying her so com- 
pletely ? Three years had made a difference. 
Here was a sublime young potentate, won- 
drously altered, and absolutely wondrously 
well-looking. The mustache she had secretly 
sneered at in its budding youth, was long, 
silken, brown ; the slight, long figure had de- 
veloped into the fairest of proportions ; the 
guileless freshness of color had died away, 
and left an interesting, if rather significant 
pallor. Having been a boy so long, he seemed 
to have become a man all at once ; and as 
he stood talking to Mrs. Despard, and occa- 
sionally turning to Lisbeth, his serenity of 
manner did him credit. Was it possible that 
he knew what to say? It appeared so. He 
did not blush ; his hands and feet evidently 
did not incommode him. He was talking vi- 
vaciously, and with the air of a man of the 
world. He was making Mrs. Despard laugh, 
and there was every now and then a touch of 
daring, yet well-bred sarcasm in what he was 
saying. Bah ! He was as much older as she 
herself was. And yet, incongruous as the 


Miss Crespigny, 25 

statement may appear, she hardly liked him 
any the better. 

How long,” she asked, abruptly, of Bertie 
Lyon, has Mr. Anstruthers been in London? ” 
Lyon, that radiant young dandy, was almost 
guilty of staring at her amazedly. 

Beg pardon,” he said. Did you say 
‘ how long ! ' ” 

Yes.” 

The young man managed to recover himself. 
Perhaps, after all, she was as ignorant about 
Anstruthers as she seemed to be, and it was 
not one of her confounded significant speeches. 
They were nice enough people, of course, and 
Mrs. Despard was the sort of woman whose 
parties a fellow always liked to be invited to ; 
but then they were not exactly in the set to 
which Anstruthers belonged, and of which he 
himself was a shining member. 

Well, you see,” he said, he has spent the 
greater part of his life in London ; but it was 
not until about three years ago that he began 
to care much about society. He came into his 
money then, when young Scarsbrook shot him- 
self accidentally, in Scotland, and he has lived 
pretty rapidly since,” with an innocent faith 
in Miss Crespigny's ability to comprehend even 
a modest bit of slang. He is a tremendously 


26 


Miss Crespigny, 


talented fellow, Anstruthers — paints, and 
writes, and takes a turn at everything. He is 
the art-critic on the Cynic ; and people talk 
about what he does, all the more because he 
has no need to do anything ; and it makes him 
awfully popular.'' 

Lisbeth laughed ; a rather savage little laugh. 

‘‘ What is it that amuses you ? " asked Lyon. 

Not Anstruthers, I hope." 

Oh, no ! " answered the young lady. Not 
this Anstruthers, but another gentleman of the 
same name, whom I knew a long time ago." 

A long time ago?" said the young man, 
gallantly, if not with wondrous sapience. If 
it is a long time ago, I should think you must 
have been so young that your acquaintance 
would be hardly likely to make any impression 
upon you, ludicrous or otherwise." For he was 
one of the victims, too, and consequently liked 
to make even a stupidly polite speech. 


Miss Crespigny. 


27 


CHAPTER III. 

PANSIES FOR THOUGHT. 

Lisbeth gave him a sweeping little curtsy, 
and looked at him sweetly, with her immense, 
dense eyes. 

‘‘That was very nice, indeed, in you,’' she 
said, with a gravely obliged air. “ Pray, take 
one of my pansies.” And selecting one from 
her bouquet, she held it out to him, and Hector 
Anstruthers, chancing to glance toward them 
at the moment, had the pleasure of seeing the 
charming bit of by-play. 

It was the misfortune of Miss Crespigny’s 
admirers that they were rarely quite sure of 
her. She had an agreeable way of saying one 
thing, and meaning another ; of speaking with 
the greatest gravity, and at the same time mak- 
ing her hearer feel extremely dubious and un- 
comfortable. She was a brilliant young lady, 
a sarcastic young lady, and this was her mode 
of dealing with young men and women who 
otherwise might have remained too well satis- 
fied with themselves. Bertie Lyon felt him- 


28 


Miss Crespigny. 


self somewhat at a loss before her, always. It 
was not easy to resist her, when she chose to 
be irresistible ; but he invariably grew hot 
and cold over her confounded significant 
speeches.’' And this was one of them. She 
was making a cut at him for his clumsy com- 
pliment, and yet he was compelled to accept 
her pansy, and fasten it on his coat, as if he 
was grateful. 

Mr. Hector Anstruthers had been installed, 
by universal consent, that evening, as a sort of 
young lion, whose gentlemanly roar was worth 
hearing. Young ladies had heard of him from 
their brothers, and one or two had seen those 
lovely little pictures of his last season. Ma- 
trons had heard their husbands mention him 
as a remarkable young fellow, who had unex- 
pectedly come into a large property, and yet 
wrote articles for the papers, and painted, when 
the mood seized him, for dear life. A really 
extraordinary young man, and very popular 
among highly desirable people. ‘‘ Rather reck- 
less,” they would say, ^‘perhaps, and something 
of a cynic, as these young swells are often apt 
to be ; but, nevertheless, a fine fellow — a fine 
fellow!” And Anstruthers had condescended 
to make himself very agreeable to the young 
ladies to whom he was introduced ; had danced 


Miss Crespigny, 


29 


a little, had talked with great politeness to the 
elder matrons, and, in short, had rendered him- 
self extremely popular. Indeed, he was so 
well employed, that, until the latter part of the 
evening, Lisbeth saw very little of him. Then 
he appeared suddenly to remember her ex- 
istence, and dutifully made his way to her 
side, to ask for a dance, which invitation be- 
ing rather indifferently accepted, they walked 
through a quadrille together. 

‘‘ I hope,’' he said, with punctilious polite- 
ness, that the Misses Tregarthyn are well.” 

I am sorry to say,” answered Lisbeth, star- 
ing at her vis-a-vis, ‘‘that I don’t know.” 

“ Then I must have mistaken you. I under- 
stood you to say that you had just received a 
letter from Miss Clarissa.” 

“ It was not a mistake,” returned Lisbeth. 
“ I had just received one, but unfortunately 
they don’t write about themselves. They write 
about me.” 

“ Which must necessarily render their letters 
interesting,” said Anstruthers. 

Lisbeth barely deigned a slight shrug of her 
shoulders. 

“Necessarily,” she replied, “ if one is so hap- 
pily disposed as never to become tired of one’s 
self.” 


30 


Miss Crespigny. 


It would be rank heresy to suppose/' said 
Anstruthers, that any of Miss Crespigny's 
friends would allow it possible that any one 
could become tired of Miss Crespigny — even 
Miss Crespigny herself." 

‘‘This is the third figure, I believe," was Lis- 
beth’s sole reply, and the music striking up 
again, they went on with their dancing. 

“ He supposes," said the young lady, scorn- 
fully, to herself, “ that he can play the grand 
seigneur with me as he does with other women. 
I dare say he is congratulating himself on the 
prospect of making me feel sorry some day— 
me! Are men always simpletons? It really 
seems so. And it is the women whom we may 
blame for it. Bah 1 he was a great deal more 
worthy of respect when he was nothing but a 
tiresome, amiable young bore. I hate these 
simpletons who think they have seen the world, 
and used up their experience." 

She was very hard upon him, as she was 
rather apt to be hard upon every one but Lis- 
beth Crespigny. And it is not improbable that 
she was all the more severe, because he re- 
minded her unpleasantly of things she would 
have been by no means unwilling to forget. 
Was she so heartless as not to have a secret 
remembrance of the flush of his first young pas- 


Miss Crespigny. 


31 


Sion, of his innocent belief in her girlish good- 
ness, of his generous eagerness to ignore all 
her selfish caprices, of his tender readiness to 
bear all her cruelty — for she had been cruel, 
and wantonly cruel, enough, God knows. Was 
she so utterly heartless as to have no memory 
of his suffering and struggles with his boyish 
pain, of his passionate, frantic appeal, when 
she had reached the climax of her selfishness 
and indifference to the wrong she might do? 
Surely, no woman could be so hard, and I will 
not say that she was, and that she was not in- 
wardly stung this night by the thought that, 
if he had hardened and grown careless and 
unbelieving, the chances were that it was she 
herself who had helped to bring about the 
change for the worse. 

The two young men, Lyon and his friend, 
spending that night together, had a little con- 
versation on the subject of their entertain- 
ment, and it came to pass in this wise. 

Accompanying Anstruthers to his chambers, 
Lyon, though by no means a sentimental indi- 
vidual, carried Miss Crespigny’s gold and pur- 
ple pansy in his button-hole, and finding it 
there when he changed his dress coat for one 
of his friend's dressing gowns, he took it out, 
and put it in a small slender vase upon the table. 


32 


Miss Crespigny, 


Anstruthers had flung himself into an easy- 
chair, with his chibouque, and through the 
wreaths of smoke, ascending from the fragrant 
weed, he saw what the young man was doing. 

Where did you get that ? '' he demanded, 
abruptly. 

‘‘ It is one of those things Miss Crespigny 
wore,’' was the modestly triumphant reply. 
‘Wou saw them on her dress, and in her hair, 
and on her fan. This is a real one, though, out 
of her bouquet. I believe they call them 
heart’s-ease.” 

Heart’s-ease be began Anstruthers, 

roughly, but he checked himself in time. She 
is the sort of a woman to wear heart’s-ease ! ” 
he added, with a sardonic laugh. She ought 
to wear heart’s-ease, and violets, and lilies, 
and snowdrops, and wild roses in the bud,” 
with a more bitter laugh for each flower he 
named. Such fresh, innocent things suit 
women of her stamp.” 

I say,” said Lyon, ^taring at his sneering 
face, amazedly, what is the matter? You 
talk as if you had a spite against her. What’s 
up?” 

Anstruther’s sneer only seemed to deepen in % 
its intensity. 4 

A spite ! ” he echoed. ‘‘What is the mat-i 


Miss Crespigny, 


33 


ter? Oh, nothing — nothing of any conse- 
quence. Only I wish she had given her heart’s- 
ease to me, or I wish you would give it to me, 
that I might show you what I advise you to do 
with the pretty things such creatures give you. 
Toss it into the fire, old fellow, and let it 
scorch, and blacken, and writhe, as if it was a 
living thing in torment. Or fling it on the 
ground, and set your heel upon it, and grind 
it out of sight,'’ 

I don’t see what good that would do,” said 
Lyon, coming to the mantelpiece, and taking 
down his meerschaum. ‘^You are a queer fel- 
low, Anstruthers. I did not think you knew 
the girl.” 

I know her?” with a fresh sneer. “ I know 
her well enough.” ^ 

‘‘By Jove!” exclaimed Lyon, suddenly, as 
if a thought had struck him. “ Then she did 
mean something.” 

“ She generally means something,” returned 
the other. “ Such women invariably do — they 
mean mischief.” 

“ She generally does when she laughs in that 
way,” Lyon proceeded, incautiously. “ She is 
generally laughing at a man, instead of with 
him, as she pretends to be.' And when she 
laughed, this evening, and looked in that odd 
3 


34 Crespigny. 

style at you, I thought there was something 
wrong/' 

Anstruthers turned white, the dead white of 
suppressed passion. 

Laugh ! " he sa4d. She laughed ? " 

‘‘You see," explained Lyon, “she had been 
asking about you ; and when I finished telling 
her what I knew, she looked at you under her 
eyelashes, as you stood talking to Mrs. Despard, 
and then she laughed ; and when I asked her if 
she was laughing at you, she said, ‘ Ah, no ! 
Not at you, but at another gentleman of the 
same name, whom she had known a long time 
ago.' " 

It was not the best thing for himself, that 
Hector Anstruthers could have heard. He had 
outlived his boyish passion, but he had nbt 
lived down the sting of it. Having had his 
first young faith broken, he had given faith up, 
as a poor mockery. He had grown cynical and 
sneering. Bah ! Why should he cling to his 
old ideals of truth and purity? What need 
that he should strive to be worthy of visions 
such as they had proved themselves? What 
was truth after all ? What was purity, in the 
end ? What had either done for him, when he 
had striven after and believed in them ? 

The accidental death of his cousin had made 


35 


Miss Crespigny, 

him a rich man, and he had given himself up 
to his own caprices. He had seen the world, 
and lived a lifetime during the last few years. 
What had there been to hold him back? Not 
love. He had done with that, he told himself. 
Not hope of anj^qufet Bliss to come. If he 
wer 'married,*^ lie should jnarry some woman 
who knew what she was taking when she ac- 
cepted what he had to offer. 

And then he had gradually drifted into his 
artistic and literary pursuits, and his success 
had roused his vanity. He would be something 
more than the rest ; and, incited by this noble 
motive, and his real love for the work, he had 
made himself something more. He had had no 
higher incentive than this vanity, and a fancy 
for popularity. It was not unpleasant to be 
pointed out as a genius — a man who, having 
no need to labor, had the whim to labor as hard 
when the mood seized, as the poorest Bohemian 
among them, and who would be paid for his 
work, too. They will give me praise for no- 
thing,’' he would say, sardonically. They won’t 
give me money for nothing. As long as they 
will pay me, my work means something. When 
it ceases to be worth a price, it is not worth my 
time.” 

The experience of this evening had been a 


36 


Miss Crespigny, 


bad thing altogether for Anstruthers. It had 
roused in him much of sleeping evil. His 
meeting with Lisbeth Crespigny had been, as 
he told her, wholly unexpected. And because 
it had been unexpected, its effect had double 
force. He did not want to see her. If he had 
been aware of her presence in the house he was 
going to visit, he would have avoided it as he 
would have avoided, the plague. The truth 
was, that in these days she had, in his mind, 
become the embodiment of all that was un- 
natural, and hard, and false. And meeting her 
suddenly, face to face, every bitter memory of 
her had come back to him with a fierce shock. 
When he had turned, as Mrs. Despard spoke, 
and had seen her standing in the doorway, 
framed in, as it were, with vines and flowers, 
and tropical plants, he had almost felt that he 
could turn on his heel and walk out of the 
room without a word of explanation. She 
would know well enough what it meant. Being 
the man he was, his eye had taken in at a 
glance every artistic effect about her ; and she 
was artistic enough ; for when Lisbeth Cres- 
pigny was not artistic she was nothing. He 
saw that the promise of her own undeveloped 
girlhood had fulfilled itself after its own rare, 
peculiar fashion, doubly and trebly. He saw 


Miss Crespigny. 


37 


in her what other men seldom saw at first sight, 
but always learned afterward, and his sense of 
repulsion and anger against her was all the 
more intense. Having been such a girl, what 
might she not be as such a woman ? Having 
borne such blossoms, what could the fruit be 
but hard and bitter at the core? Only his 
ever-ruling vanity saved him from greeting her 
with some insane, caustic speech. Vanity will 
serve both men and women a good turn, by 
chance, sometimes, and his saved him from 
making a blatant idiot of himself — barely saved 
him. And having got through this, it was not 
soothing to hear that she had stood, in her sly 
way, and looked at him under her eyelashes, 
and laughed. He knew how she would laugh. 
He had heard her laugh at people in that quiet 
fashion, when she was fifteen, and the sound 
had always hurt him, through its suggestion of 
some ungirlish satire he could not grasp, and 
which was not worthy of so perfect a being as 
he deemed her. 

So, he could not help breaking out again in 
new fury, when Bertie Lyon explained himself. 
It did not matter so much, breaking out before 
Lyon. Men could keep each other’s secrets. 
He flung his pipe aside with a rough word, and 
began to pace the room. 


38 


Miss Crespigny. 


There is more of devil than woman in her/' 
he said. There always was. I'd give a few 
years of my life," clenching his hand, ‘‘to be 
sure that she would find her match some day." 

“ I should think you would be match enough 
for her," remarked Lyon, astutely. “ But what 
has she done to make you so savage ? When 
were you in love with a woman ? " 

“Never!" bitterly. “I was in love with 
her, and she never belonged to the race, not 
even at fifteen years old. I was in love with 
her, and she has been the ruin of me." 

“ I should scarcely have thought it," an- 
swered Lyon. “You are a pretty respectable 
wreck, for your age." 

The young man was not prone to heroics 
himself, and not seeing his friend indulge in 
them often, he did not regard them with en- 
thusiasm. 

This complacency checked Anstruthers. 
What a frantic fool he was, to let such a trifle 
upset his boasted cynicism? He flung out 
another short laugh of defiant self-ridicule. He 
came back to his chair as abruptly as he had 
left it. 

“Bah!" he said. “So I am. You are a 
wise boy, Lyon, and I am glad you stopped 
me. I thought I had lived down all this sort 


39 


Miss Crespigny. 


of nonsense, but — but I have seen that girl wear 
pansies before. Heart’s-ease, by Jove! And 
it gave me a twinge to think of it. Keep that 
one in the glass over there ; keep it as long as 
you choose, my boy. It will last as long as 
your fancy for her does, I wager. Women of 
the Crespigny stamp don’t wear well. Here, 
hand me that bottle — Or stay ! I’ll ring for my 
man, and we will have some brandy and soda, 
to cool our heated fancies. We are too young 
to stay up so late ; too young and innocent ! 
We ought to have gone to bed long ago, like 
good boys.” 


40 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A LUNCH PARTY. 

The studio of that popular and fortunate 
young man, Mr. Hector Anstruthers, was really 
a most gorgeous and artistic affair. It was 
beautifully furnished and wondrously fitted 
up, and displayed, in all its arrangements, 
the fact that its owner was a young man of 
refined and luxurious tastes, and was lucky 
enough to possess the means to gratify them 
to their utmost. People admired this studio, 
and talked about it almost as much as they 
talked about Anstruthers himself. Indeed, it 
had become a sort of fashion to visit it. The 
most exclusive of mammas, ladies who were so 
secure in their social thrones, that they were 
privileged to dictate to fashion, instead of 
being dictated to by that fickle goddess — ladies 
who made much of Anstruthers, and petted 
him, often stopped their carriages at his door 
on fine mornings, and descended therefrom with 
their marriageable girls, went up to the charm- 
ing room, and loitered through half an hour, 
or even more, talking to the young potentate, 


Miss Crespigny, 


41 


admiring his pictures, and picturesque odds 
and ends, and rarities, and making themselves 
very agreeable. He was an extravagant crea- 
ture, and needed some one to control him, these 
ladies told him ; but really it was all very pretty, 
and exquisitely tasteful ; and, upon the whole, 
they could hardly blame him as much as it was 
their duty to do. Anstruthers received these 
delicate attentions with quite a grace. 

He listened and smiled amiably, replying 
with friendly deprecation of their reproaches. 
Was he not paid a thousand-fold by their kind 
approval of his humble efforts ? What more 
could he ask than that they should grace the 
little place with their presence, and condescend 
to admire his collection ? Most men had their 
hobbies, and art was his — art and the artistic — 
a harmless, if extravagant one. And then he 
would beg his fair visitors and their escort to 
honor his small temple, by partaking of the 
luncheon his man would bring in. And then 
the little luncheon would appear, as if by 
magic— a marvelous collation, as much a work 
of art as everything else ; and this being set 
out upon some carven wonder of a table, the 
ladies would deign to partake, and would ad- 
mire more than ever, until, in course of time, to 
visit Mr. Hector Anstruthers, among his pic- 


42 


Miss Crespigny, 


tures, and carvings, and marbles, and be invited 
to enjoy his dandified little feasts, became the 
most fashionable thing the most exclusive of 
people could do. So it was by no means extraor- 
dinary that, one sunny morning in April, my 
lord, while chatting with his usual condescend- 
ing amiability to one party of visitors, should 
receive another. There were three in this last 
party, an elderly beau, a young lady of uncer- 
tain age, and Mrs. Despard. Anstruthers, who 
was standing by the side of a pretty girl with 
bright eyes, started a little on the entrance of 
this lady, and the bright eyes observed it. 

Who is that ? asked their owner. She is 
a very distingue sort of person.’’ And then she 
smiled. It was quite certain that he could not 
be enamored of such mature charms as these, 
distingue though they might be. 

That is Mrs. Despard, Miss Esmond,” an- 
swered Anstruthers. Excuse me, one mo- 
ment.” And then he advanced to meet his 
guests, with the cordiality of the most graceful 
of hosts. 

This was indeed a pleasure, he said, blandly. 

He had been half afraid that Mrs. Despard had 
forgotten her kind promise. 

That lady shook hands with him in a most ] 
friendly manner. She rather shared the uni- ] 


43 


Miss Crespigny, 

versal tendency people had to admire the young 
man. Were not all young men extravagant ? 
And at least this one had money enough to 
afford to be extravagant honestly, and attrac- 
tions enough to render even conceit a legiti- 
mate article. 

‘‘You must thank Mr. Estabrook and his sister 
for bringing me,’' she said. “ They have been 
before and knew the way. We 'met them as 
.they were coming here, and they asked us to 
come with them. Lisbeth would not get out 
of the carriage. • She was either lazy or ill- 
humored. She was driven round to the library, 
and is to call for us in half an hour. 

Her eyes twinkled a little as she told him 
this. As I have said before, Lisbeth always 
interested her, and she was interested now in 
her mode of managing this old love affair. It 
was so plain that it rasped her to be brought 
in contact with him and that she would have 
preferred very much to keep out of his way, 
that the fact of her being thrown in his path 
against her will could not fail to have its spice, 
and afford Mrs. Despard a little malicious 
amusement. In secret, she was obliged to con- 
fess that, ill-natured as it seemed, she would not 
have been very sorry to see Lisbeth at bay. Of 
Anstruthers’ sentiments she was not quite sure, 


44 


Miss Crespigny, 


as yet, but she was very sure of Lisbeth’s. 
Lisbeth knew that she had acted atrociously in 
the past, and hating herself in private for her 
weak wickedness, hated Anstruthers too for his 
share in it. It was not Lisbeth's way to be 
either very just or very generous. All her pangs 
of self-reproach were secret ones, of which she 
had taught herself to be ashamed, and which 
she would have died rather than confess. She 
let her caprices rule her wholly, and did her 
best to make them rule other people. If she 
was angry, she made vicious speeches ; if she 
was pleased, she behaved like an angel, or an 
angelic creature without a fault. She did not 
care enough for other people to mold her 
moods to their taste. The person of most con- 
sequence to her was Lisbeth Crespigny. 

Mrs. Despard found her visit to her young 
friend's studio very entertaining. She saw 
things to admire, and things to be amused at. 
She discovered that his own efforts were really 
worth looking at, and that the fixtures he had 
collected were both valuable and exquisite. 
He had bought no costly lots of ugliness, he 
had bought beauty. As to the appurtenances 
of the room, a woman could not have chosen 
them better — most women would not have 
chosen them so well. Indeed, a touch of ef- 


Miss Crespigny, 


45 


feminate fancifulness in the general arrange- 
ment of things made her smile more than once. 
He had arranged a sort of miniature conserva- 
tory in a wide, deep bay-window, filled it with 
tiers of flowers growing in fanciful vases, and 
hanging baskets full of delicate, long vines, and 
bright bloom. 

What a dandy we are ! she said, smiling, 
when she drew aside the sweeping lace curtain 
which cut this pretty corner off from the rest 
of the apartment. And what fine tastes we 
display ! ’’ 

Anstruthers blushed a little. He had ac- 
companied her on her tour of exploration, and 
had been secretly flattered by her evident ad- 
miration and surprise. 

Is that a compliment, or is it not ? '' he an- 
swered. I like to hear that I have fine taste, 
but I don't like to be called a dandy." 

Isn't it a trifle dandified to know how to do 
all these things so well?" she asked. It is 
a man's province to be clumsy and ignorant 
about the small graces." 

Isn't it better than doing them ill ? " he 
said. Pray let me give you two or three pale 
rosebuds and a few sweet violets." 

‘‘ If you bribe me with violets and rosebuds, 
I shall say it is better that you should be 


46 


Miss Crespigny. 


aesthetic enough to care to cultivate them, than 
that I should not have the pleasure of receiv- 
ing them as a gift. It is very pretty of you to 
do such things.'’ 

There was no denying that they had become 
excellent friends. There were not many peo- 
ple to whom his lordship would have offered 
his rosebuds and violets, but for some rea- 
son or other he had taken a sudden fancy to 
Mrs. Despard, and was anxious to show him- 
self to advantage. He was even ready to an- 
swer her questions, and once or twice they 
were somewhat close ones, it must be con- 
fessed. 

‘‘Tell me something about that nice girl,” 
she said, glancing at Miss Esmond, who was 
talking to the rest of the party. “ What a 
pretty creature she is, and how bright her eyes 
and her color are ! There are very few girls 
who look like that in these days.” 

“Very few,” answered Anstruthers. “That 
nice girl is Miss Georgie Esmond, and she is 
one of the few really nice girls who have the 
luck to take public fancy by storm, as they 
ought to. She has not been ‘ out ’ long, and 
she is considered a belle and a beauty. And 
yet I assure you, Mrs. Despard, that I have 
seen that girl playing with a troop of little 


Miss Crespigny. 


47 


brothers and sisters, as if she was enjoying her- 
self, helping a snuffy old French governess to 
correct exercises, and bringing a light for the 
old colonel’s pipe, as if she had never seen a 
ball-room in her life.” 

^‘Oh !” said Mrs. Despard, ^^then I suppose 
you have seen her in the bosom of her family,” 
a trifle slyly. 

I know them very well,” replied the young 
man, with a grave air. ‘‘ I have known Georgie 
Esmond since she wore pinafores. My poor 
cousin, who died, has played blindman’s buff 
with us at Scarsbrook Park, when we were 
children, many a time. The fact is, I believe 
we are distant relations.” 

I congratulate you on the distance of the 
relationship,” said Mrs. Despard. She is a 
fresh, bright, charming girl.” 

^^She is a good girl,” said Anstruthers. 

Congratulate her on that, and congratulate 
her father, and her mother, and her brothers 
and sisters, and the snuffy old governess, whose 
life she tries to make less of a burden to her.” 

It was at this moment that the carriage in 
which Lisbeth had driven away returned. It 
drove by the window, and drew up at the door, 
and Mrs. Despard saw her young friend’s face 
alter its expression when he caught sight of it. 


48 


Miss Crespigny, 


with its prancing bays and faultless accompa- 
niments, and Lisbeth Crespigny leaning back 
upon the dove-colored cushions, with a book 
in her little dove-colored hand. She saw Mrs. 
Despard among the flowers, but did not see 
her companion ; and being in an amiable hu- 
mor, she gave her a smile and a nice little ges- 
ture of greeting. Her eyes looked like mid- 
night in the sunshine, and with a marvel of a 
cream-colored rose in her hat, and in perfect 
toilet, she was like a bit of a picture, dark, and 
delicate, and fine ; she struck Anstruthers in 
an instant, just as anything else artistic would 
have struck him, and held his attention. 

I wonder if she would come up,’' Mrs. 
Despard said. I wish she would. She ought 
to see this. It would suit her exactly.” 

‘‘Allow me to go down and ask her if 
she will do us the honor,” said Anstruthers. 
“Colonel Esmond and his daughter have pro- - 
mised to take luncheon, and I was in hopes that 
I could persuade your party to join us. It will 
be brought on almost immediately.” 

“ That is as novel as the rest,” said Mrs. 
Despard, by no means displeased. “ However, 
if you can induce Lisbeth to come up, I am 
not sure that I shall refuse.” 

“ I wonder what he will say to her,” was her |: 


49 


Miss Crespigny. 

mental comment, when he left the room, and 
she looked out of her window with no small 
degree of interest. 

She saw him standing upon the pavement, 
by the carriage, a moment or so later, his face 
slightly upturned, as he spoke to the girl, the 
spring wind playing softly with his loose, fair 
hair, and the spring sunshine brightening it ; 
and something in his manner, she scarcely 
knew what, brought back to her a sudden 
memory of the frank, boyish young fellow he 
had been when Lisbeth first amused herself, 
with her cool contempt for his youth and im- 
petuousness, at Pen’yllan. And just as sud- 
denly it occurred to her, what a wide difference 
she found in him now. How ready he was to 
say caustic things, to take worldly views, and 
indulge in worldly sneers ; and she recollected 
the stories she had drifted upon ; stories which 
proved him a life’s journey from the boy whose 
record had been pure, whose heart had been 
fresh, whose greatest transgression might have 
been easily forgiven ; and remembering all 
this, she felt a sharp anger against Lisbeth, an 
anger sharper than she had ever felt toward 
her in the whole of her experience. 

When Anstruthers appeared upon the pave- 
ment, and advanced toward the carriage side, 
4 


50 


Miss Crespigny. 


Lisbeth turned toward him with a feeling of no 
slight displeasure. Since she had made an 
effort to keep out of his way, must he follow 
her up ? 

Is not Mrs. Despard coming?’' she asked, 
somewhat abruptly. 

Mrs. Despard was so kind as to say, that if 
I could induce you to leave the carriage and 
join our little party, she would not refuse to 
take luncheon with us.” And then he stood 
and waited for her reply. 

‘‘ I was not aware that she thought of stay- 
ing,” said Lisbeth. If I had known ” 

Then she checked herself. If I refuse,” 
she said, in secret, he will think I am afraid 
of him.” And she regarded him keenly. But 
he was quite immovable, and merely appeared 
politely interested. 

If you will be so good as to let me help 
you down,” he said, opening the low door him- 
self, and extending his hand courteously, “we 
shall be delighted to have such an addition to 
our number,” he added. 

“You are very kind,” answered Lisbeth, ris- 
ing. He should not think his presence could 
influence her one way or the other. She 
made up her mind to face this position, since 
it was unavoidable, as if it had been the most 


51 


Miss Crespigny. 

ordinary one in the world. She entered the 
room up stairs as if she had expected to lunch 
there. Miss Esmond, who was always good- 
naturedly ready to be enthusiastic, turned to 
look at her with a smile of pleasure. 

What an unusual type ! ” she said, to her 
father. Do look, papa ! She is actually ex- 
quisite ! '' And being introduced to her, her 
frank, bright eyes became brighter than ever. 
•She was one of those lovable, trusting young 
creatures, who are ready to fall in love with 
pleasant people or objects on the shortest no- 
tice ; and she was captivated at once by Lis- 
beth's friendly air. Her age and Lisbeth's 
were about the same, but by nature and experi- 
ence they were very wide apart. Miss Cres- 
pigny being very much the older and more 
worldly-wise of the two. If it had come to a 
matter of combat between them. Miss Georgie 
would have had no chance whatever. 


52 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER V. 

GEORGIE ESMOND. 

It suited Lisbeth to be charming this morn- 
ing, and she was really very agreeable indeed. 
She knew enough of art to appear to advan- 
tage among pictures, and she had, withal, a cer- 
tain demure and modest way of admitting her 
ignorance, which was by no means unattractive. 
She was bright, amiable, and, as it seemed, in 
the best of spirits. She made friends with Miss 
Georgie, and delighted Colonel Esmond ; she 
propitiated Miss Estabrook, and rendered that 
inflammable elderly beau, her brother, supreme- 
ly happy by her friendly condescension ; she 
treated Anstruthers as if there had been no 
other event in their two lives but this one 
morning and this one nice little party. She 
made the luncheon even more entertaining 
than such small feasts usually were ; in short, 
she was Lisbeth Crespigny at her best, her 
spiciest, and in her most engaging mood. 

Oh ! '' said that open-hearted Georgie, when 
she shook hands with her as they parted — Oh, 
I have enjoyed myself so much ! I am so glad 


Miss Crespigny. 


53 


to have met you. I hope we shall see each 
other again. Please ask me to call, Mrs. Des- 
pard,'’ laughing prettily. I should like it so 
much. I do so hate to lose people whom I like.'^ 

Does that mean that you are so good as to 
like me a little?’' said Lisbeth, in her sweetest 
tone, wondering, at the same time, how on 
earth the girl could have lived so long, and yet 
have retained that innocent, believing air and 
impulsive way. I hope it does.” 

Georgie quite blushed with innocent fervor. 

Indeed it does,” she answered. “ I should 
not say it, if it did not. And I am sure that, 
if I see you more, I shall like you better and 
better. It is so delightful to meet somebody 
one is sure one can be fond of.” 

It was an odd thing, but as Lisbeth looked 
at her for a moment, she positively felt that 
she blushed faintly herself, blushed with a 
sense of being a trifle ashamed of Lisbeth Cres- 
pigny. It would be dreadful to have such 
a girl as this find her out ; see her just as she 
was; read her record just as the past had left 
it. She was half inclined to put such a thing 
beyond the pale of possibility by drawing 
back. 

I want mamma to know you,” said Georgie. 

Mamma is so fond of clever people, that it. 


54 


Miss Crespigny, 


makes me wish, often enough, that I was not 
such an ordinary sort of girl.” 

We shall be delighted to see you, my dear,” 
said Mrs. Despard. You may be sure of that. 
Come as soon, and as often as possible.” 

And so the matter was decided, and Lisbeth 
had not the power to draw back, if she had 
determined to do so. 

You must have known Miss Crespigny quite 
a long time,” Georgie Esmond said, cheerfully, 
to Anstruthers, before she went away with her 
father. Mrs. Despard said something about 
your having met her at that little Welsh place, 
Pen’yllan wasn't it ? And you haven’t been at 
Pen’yllan to stay for two or three years.” 

‘‘You ought not to have kept such a charm- 
ing creature to yourself for three years, my 
boy,” said the old colonel. 

“ I should think not, indeed,” chimed in 
Miss Georgie. “ It was selfish, and we are 
never selfish with him, are we, papa? We 
show him all our nice people, don’t we? ” 

“ But,” said Anstruthers, “ I have not seen 
Miss Crespigny once during the three years. 
After leaving Pen’yllan, we lost sight of each 
other, somehow or other, and did not meet 
again until a short time ago, and then it was 
quite by accident.” 


Miss Crespigny, 


55 


It was very careless of you to lose her 
then/' protested Miss Georgie. would not 
have lost her for the world. Gentlemen are 
so cold in their friendships. I don’t believe 
you ever really loved any of your friends in 
your life, Mr. Hector.” 

Anstruthers smiled a satirical smile. 

Ought I to have loved Miss Crespigny ? ” 
he demanded. Ought I to begin to love her 
now? If you think it is my duty, I will begin 
to do it at once, Georgie.” 

The girl shook her pretty head reproach- 
fully. 

Oh ! ” she said, that is always the way 
you talk, you grand young gentlemen. It is 
the fashion to be sarcastic, and not to admire 
anybody very much, or anything but your- 
selves,” saucily. ^^And you would sneer at 
your best friends rather than not be in the 
fashion. I am sure I don’t know what the 
world is coming to.” 

Who is sarcastic now, I should like to 
know ? ” said Anstruthers. I think it is Miss 
Georgie Esmond, who out-Herods Herod. Ad- 
mire ourselves, indeed ! We only do what we 
are taught to do. What women themselves 
teach us ” 

‘‘ What ! ” exclaimed Georgie. Do we 


56 Miss Crespigny, 

teach you to admire yourselves, and nothing 
else?’’ 

^‘No,” was his answer. ^‘You do not teach 
us that, but you do worse. Not you, my kind, 
honest Georgie, but women who would have us 
believe they are as honest and tender. They 
teach us that if we cling to our first beliefs, we 
are fools, and deserve to be laughed at ; they 
teach us to sneer, and then scold us prettily for 
sneering ; they leave us nothing to believe in, 
and then make sad, poetic speeches about our 
want of faith. There are men in the world 
for whom it would have been better if they had 
never seen a woman.” 

Georgie Esmond’s eyes opened wider and 
wider. She did not understand such bitterness. 
She was a simple, healthful-minded girl, and 
had seen very little of the world but its plea- 
sant side. 

Why ! ” she said, this is dreadful. And- 
you say it as if you actually meant it. I shall 
have to talk to mamma about you, Hector. 
Such cases as yours are too much for me to 
deal with. What good is all your money, and 
your genius, and your popularity, and — and 
good looks?” making a charming, mischievous 
bow. ‘‘ What pleasure can you derive from 
your pretty rooms, and lovely pictures, and 


Miss Crespigny, 


57 


fine articles of vertu^ if you have such wicked 
thoughts as those ? Somebody ought to take 
your things from you, as we do Harry's toys, 
when he is willful ; and they ought to be locked 
up in a cupboard, until you are in a frame of 
mind to enjoy them." 

Anstruthers looked at her sweet, bright face 
with a kind of sad admiration. Why had he 
not fallen in love with this girl, instead of with 
the other ? It was a hard fate which had led 
or driven him. What a different man he might 
have been, if, three years ago, Georgie Esmond 
had stood in Lisbeth Crespigny's place ! 

^^You don't quite understand, Georgie," he 
said, in alow, rather tender tone. ^‘You are 
too good and kind, my dear, to quite compre- 
hend what makes people hard, and bitter, and 
old before their time." 

And Colonel Esmond coming into the room 
tb take her away, at this moment, he gave her 
nice little hand the ghost of an affectionate 
pressure, when she offered it to him in farewell. 

And while Mr. Hector Anstruthers was rail- 
ing, in this exalted strain, at the falseness of 
womankind, the fair cause of his heresy was 
driving home in a rather unpleasant frame of 
mind. It is never pleasant to find that one 
has lost power, and it was a specially galling 


58 


Miss Crespigny. 


thing to Lisbeth Crespigny to find herself at 
any time losing influence of any kind. She did 
not find it agreeable to confront the fact that 
one of her slaves had purchased his freedom, 
with his experience. Petty as the emotion 
was, she had felt something akin to anger this 
morning, when she had been compelled to 
acknowledge, as once or twice she had been, 
that her whilom victim could address her 
calmly, meet her glance with polite indiffer- 
ence, regard her, upon the whole, as he would 
have regarded any far less accomplished 
woman. 

Less than four years ago,'' she said to her- 
self, with scorn, if I had trampled upon him, 
he would have kissed my feet. To-day, he 
only sees in me an unpleasant young woman, 
whom he overrated, and accordingly cherishes a 
grudge against. I have no doubt he looked at 
that pretty, fresh, Esmond girl, as we sat 
together, and drew invidious comparisons be- 
tween us." 

Let us give her credit for one thing, how- 
ever. She felt no anger against the girl, who 
she fancied had taken her place. Somehow 
Georgie Esmond, with her bright eyes, and her 
roses, and her ready good-nature, had found a 
soft spot in Lisbeth's rather hard heart. Miss 


Miss Crespigny, 


59 


Crespigny could not have explained why it 
was, but she had taken a fancy to Georgie 
Esmond. She liked her, and she wanted the 
feeling to be a mutual one. She would have 
experienced something very like a pang, even 
thus early in their acquaintance, if she had 
thought that the sweet, honest young creature 
would ever see her with Hector Anstruthers’ 
eyes. 

Men are always disproportionately bitter,’' 
she said, to herself. It is their way to make 
themselves heard when they are hurt. They 
seem to have a kind of pride in their pain. 
Any ordinarily clever woman could see that 
my lord of the studio had a grievance.” 

Lisbeth,” said Mrs. Despard, breaking in 
upon her reverie, isn’t it rather astonishing 
how that boy has improved ? ” 

He has improved,” said Lisbeth, ‘‘because 
he has ceased to be a boy. He is a man in 
these days.” 

“And a very personable and entertaining 
man, I must say,” returned Mrs. Despard, nod- 
ding her head, in approval of him. “ He is 
positively handsome. And that luncheon was 
a very pretty, graceful affair, and quite unique. 
I shall pay him a visit again one of these fine 
days.” 


6o Miss Crespigny, 

Being thus installed as one of Mrs. Despard's 
favorites, it was not at all singular that they 
should see a great deal of the young gentleman. 
And they did see him pretty often. Gradually 
he forgot his objection to meeting Lisbeth, and 
rather sneered in secret at the violence of that 
first shock of repulsion. It was all over, now, 
he said, and why should such a woman trouble 
him ? Indeed, what greater proof of his security 
could he give himself than the fact that he 
could meet her almost daily, and still feel in- 
different ? It must be confessed that he rather 
prided himself upon his indifference. He was 
drawn also into greater familiarity with the 
household through Georgie Esmond. For, in 
expressing her wish to make friends with Lis- 
beth, Georgie had been sincere, as was her 
habit. A very short time after the luncheon 
her first visit was made, and the first visit was 
the harbinger of many others. Mamma,'* 
who was her daughter's chief admiration, came 
with her, and mamma " was as much charmed, 
in her way, as Georgie had been in hers. It 
was impossible for Lisbeth to help pleasing 
people when she was in the right mood ; and 
Mrs. Esmond and Georgie invariably put her 
in the right mood. She could not help show- 
ing her best side to these two sweet natures. 


Miss Crespigny, 


6i 


CHAPTER VI. 

A SONG. 

Thus a friendship arose which, in the course 
of time, became a very close one. Colonel 
Esmond’s house was luxurious and pleasant, 
and everybody’s heart opened to a favorite 
of Georgie’s. Accordingly, Lisbeth’s niche in 
the family was soon found. It was rather 
agreeable to go among people who admired 
and were ready to love her, so she went pretty 
often. In fact, Georgie kept firm hold upon 
her. There appeared always some reason 
why it was specially necessary that Lisbeth 
should be with her. She had visitors, or she 
was alone and wanted company ; she had some 
new music and wanted Lisbeth’s help, or she 
had found some old songs Lisbeth must try — 
Lisbeth, whose voice was so exquisite. Indeed, 
it was Lisbeth, Lisbeth, Lisbeth, from week to 
week, until more than one of Miss Esmond’s 
admirers wished that there had been no such 
person as Miss Crespigny in the world. As 
Anstruthers had said. Miss Georgie Esmond 
was quite a belle, in this the first year of her 


62 


Miss Crespigny. 


reign, and if she had been so inclined, it was 
generally believed that she might have achieved 
some very brilliant social triumphs, indeed. 
But I am afraid that she had the bad taste not 
to aspire as she might have done. 

I don’t want to be uncharitable,” she had 
said, innocently, to her friend. And I don’t 
in the least believe the things people often say 
about society — the things Hector says, for in- 
stance ; but really, Lisbeth, I have sometimes 
thought that the life behind all the glare and 
glitter was just the least bit stupid and hollow. 
I know I should get dreadfully tired of it, if I 
had nothing else to satisfy me ; no real home- 
life, and no true, single-hearted, close friends to 
love, like you and mamma.” 

It made Lisbeth wince, this pretty speech, 
Georgie Esmond often made her wince. 

And Mr. Hector Anstruthers discovered this 
fact before any great length of time had passed, 
and the discovery awakened in him divers new 
sensations. 

He had looked on at the growing friendship 
with a secret sneer ; but the sneer was not at 
Georgie. Honestly, he liked the girl something 
the better for her affectionate credulity; no- 
thing could contaminate her, not even Lisbeth 
Crespigny. But sometimes, just now and then, 


Miss Crespigny, 


63 


he found it a trifle difficult to control himself, 
and resist the impulse to be openly sarcastic. 

He encountered this difficulty in special 
force one evening about a month after the 
studio luncheon. The girls had spent the after- 
noon together, and, dinner being over, Lisbeth 
was singing one of Georgie’s favorite songs. 
It was a love song, too, for though Miss Georgie 
had as yet had no practical experience in the 
matter of love, she had some very pretty ideas 
of that tender passion, and was very fond of 
love songs, and poems, and love stories, such as 
touched her heart, and caused her to shed a 
few gentle tears. And this song was a very 
pretty one, indeed. All for love, and the 
world well lost,” was the burden of its guile- 
less refrain. All for love, love which is always 
true, and always tender, and never deceives us. 
What is the world, it demanded, what is life, 
what rest can we find if we have not love? The 
world is our garden, and love is the queen 
of roses, its fairest bloom. Let us gather 
what flowers we may, but, oh, let us gather 
the rose first, and tend it most delicately. It 
will give its higher beauty to our lives ; it will 
make us more fit for heaven itself ; it will 
shame our selfishness, and help us to forget 
our sordid longings. All for love, and the 


64 


Miss Crespigny, 


world well lost. And so on, through three or 
four verses, with a very sweet accompaniment, 
which Georgie played with great taste. 

And Lisbeth was singing, and, as she had 
a trick of doing, was quite forgetting her- 
self. And her exquisite, full-toned voice rose 
and fell with a wondrous fervor, and her im- 
mense dark eyes glared, and her small pale face 
glowed, and a little pathetic shadow seemed to 
rest upon her. So well did she sing, indeed, 
that one might have fancied that she had done 
nothing, all her life, but sing just such sweetly 
sentimental songs, and believe every word of 
them implicitly ; and when she had finished, 
Georgie’s eyes were full of tears. 

Oh, Lisbeth ! she cried, looking up at her 
affectionately, you make everything sound so 
beautiful and — and true. I could never, never 
sing in that way. It must be because you can 
feel beautiful, tender things so deeply, so much 
more deeply than other people do.’' 

Lisbeth awoke from her dream suddenly. 
Hector Anstruthers, who had been standing 
at the other side of the piano, looked at her 
with a significance which would have roused 
her at any time. Their eyes met, and both 
pair flashed ; his with the very intensity of con- | 
tempt ; hers with defiance. I 


Miss Crespigny, 


6s 


‘‘My dear Georgie,” he said, “ I admire your 
enthusiasm, but scarcely think you quite un- 
derstand Miss Crespigny. She is one of those 
fortunate people who cannot help doing things 
well. It is a habit she has acquired. No sen- 
timent would suffer in her hands, even a senti- 
ment quite opposite to the one she has just 
illustrated the force of so artistically.” 

Georgie looked a little amazed. She did not 
liked to be chilled when all her gentle emotions 
were in full play ; and, apart from this, did not 
such a speech sound as if it suggested a doubt 
of the sincerity of her beloved Lisbeth ? 

“ People cannot teach themselves to be inno- 
cent and loving,” she said, almost indignantly. 
“ At least, they cannot be artistically loving 
and innocent. You cannot make art of truth 
and faith, and you cannot be generous and 
kind through nothing but habit. Your heart 
must be good before you can be good yourself, 
At least, that is my belief, and I would rather 
have my beliefs than your cynicisms ; and so 
would Lisbeth, I am sure, even if they are not 
so brilliant and popular. You are too sarcas- 
tic, sir, and you have quite spoiled our pretty 
song.” 

“ I did not mean to spoil it,” he answered, 
“Forgive me, I beg,” with a satirical bow, 
5 


66 


Miss Crespigny, 

and pray favor me with another, that I may 
learn to believe. Perhaps I shall. I am in- 
clined to think Miss Crespigny could convince 
a man of anything.’’ 

You don’t deserve another,” said Georgie. 

Does he, Lisbeth ? ” 

Hardly,” said Lisbeth, who was turning 
over some music, with an indifferent face. But 
she sang again nevertheless, and quite as well 
as she had done before, though it must be ad- 
mitted that she influenced Georgie to a choice 
of songs of a less Arcadian nature. 

The following morning Anstruthers called to 
see Mrs. Despard, and found that lady absent, 
and Miss Crespigny in the drawing-room. Con- 
sequently, it fell to Miss Crespigny’s lot to 
entertain him during his brief visit. He made 
it as brief as possible; but when he rose to 
take his leave, to his surprise Lisbeth detained 
him. 

‘‘ There is something I should like to say to 
you,” she began, after she had risen with 
him. 

He paused, hat in hand. 

‘Ht is about Georgie — Miss Esmond,” she 
added. Y ou were very kind to speak to her of 
me as you did last night. It was very generous. 
I feel that I ought to thank you for trying to 


Miss Crespigny. 67 

make her despise me/' And her eyes flashed 
with an expression not easy to face. 

I ask pardon," he returned, loftily. If I 
had understood that your friendship was of such 
a nature " 

‘‘ If its object had been a man, instead of 
an innocent girl, you would have understood 
easily enough, I have no doubt," she inter- 
posed, angrily. 

He bowed, with the suspicion of a sneer 
upon his face. 

Perhaps," he answered. 

Thank you," said she. However, since 
you need the matter explained, I will explain 
it. I am fond of Georgie Esmond, and she is 
fond of me, and I do not choose to lose her 
affection ; so I must resort to the poor expedi- 
ent of asking you to deny yourself the gratifica- 
tion of treating me contemptuously in her pres- 
ence. Say what you please when we are alone, 
as we are sometimes forced to be ; but when 
we are with your cousin, be good enough to 
remember that she is my friend, and trusts me." 

It was so like the girl Lisbeth, this daring, 
summary course, this confronting and settling 
the matter at once, without the least sign of 
hesitation or reluctance, that he began to feel 
very uncomfortable. Had he really behaved 


68 


Miss Crespigny, 


himself so badly, indeed ? Was it possible that 
he had allowed himself to appear such a ram- 
pant brute as her words implied? He, who so 
prided himself upon his thoroughbred impas- 
sibility ? 

I treat you contemptuously ! he exclaimed. 

It is not you I care for,'' she answered him. 
It is Georgie Esmond." 

He had no resource left but to accept his 
position, the very humiliating position of a man 
whose apologies, if he offered any, would be 
coolly set aside, whose humiliation was of no 
consequence, and who was expected to receive 
punishment, like a culprit whose sensations 
were not for a moment to be regarded. 

He left the house feeling angry and helpless, 
and returning to his chambers, wrote a stinging 
criticism of a new book. Poor Blanke,who had 
written the book, received the benefit of the 
sentiments Miss Crespigny had roused. 

On her part, Lisbeth resorted to one of her 
humors," to use Mrs. Despard's expression. 
She was out of patience with herself. She had 
lost her temper almost as soon as she had spoken 
her first words ; and she had been so sure of 
perfect self-control before she began. That 
was her secret irritant. Why could she not 
have managed it better? It was not usual 


Miss Crespigny, 69 

with her to give way when she was sure of 
herself. 

‘‘ Somebody has been here/' said Mrs. Des- 
pard, when she came in, and found her sitting 
alone with her sewing. Some one you do 
not like, or some one who has said something 
awkward or unpleasant to you." 

‘‘ Hector Anstruthers has been here," was 
Lisbeth's answer, but she deigned no further 
explanation, and did not even lift her eyes as 
she spoke. 


70 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER VIL 

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 

The next time that .Georgie found herself 
alone with Mr. Anstruthers, she read him a 
very severe little lecture on the subject of his 
shortcomings. 

I knew that you liked to be satirical, and 
make fine, cutting speeches,'' she said, with the 
prettiest indignation ; but I did not think 
you would have gone so far as to be openly 
rude, and to Lisbeth, of all people ! Lisbeth, 
who is so good, and unselfish, and kind, and 
who is my dearest friend." 

Hector Anstruthers looked at her sweet face 
almost mournfully. Is she good, and unself- 
ish, and kind ? " he said. But the question was 
not a satire. He only asked it in a tender 
wonder at the girl's innocent faith. 

^ ‘‘There is no one like her. No one so good, 
unless it is mamma herself," exclaimed Miss 
Georgie, with warmth. 

“But Lisbeth's is not a common surface 
goodness, and I suppose that is the reason that 
you cannot see it. You, too, who are so far- 


Miss Crespigny, 


71 


sighted and clever. I, for one, am glad I am 
not a genius, if to be a genius one must be 
blind to everything but the failings of one’s 
friends. Ah, Hector !” a sudden pity kindling 
in her gentle breast, as she met his eyes, 
*‘Ah, Hector, people often envy you, and call 
you fortunate, but there are times when I am 
sorry for you — sorry from my heart.” 

Georgie,” answered the young man, not 
quite able to control a tremor in his voice, 
‘Hhere are more times than you dream of, 
when I am sorry for myself.” 

Sorry for yourself ? ” said Georgie, soften- 
ing at once. ^‘Then you must be more un- 
happy than I thought. To be sorry for one’s 
self, one must be unhappy indeed. But why 
is it ? Why should you be unhappy, after all ? 
Why should you be cynical and unbelieving. 
Hector? The world has been very good to 
you, or, as I think we ought to say, God has 
been very good to you. What have you not 
got, that you can want ? What is there that 
you lack? Not money, not health, not friends. 
Isn’t it a little ungrateful to insist on being 
wretched, when you have so much ?” 

Yes,” answered Anstruthers, gloomily. It 
is very ungrateful, indeed.” 

‘‘Ungrateful? I should think it was,” 


72 


Miss Crespigny, 


turned Georgie, with her favorite dubious shake 
of the head. Ah, poor fellow ! I am afraid 
it is a little misfortune that you need, and I 
am very sorry to see it.'' 

It was no marvel that Georgie Esmond was 
popular. She was one of those charming girls 
who invariably have a good effect upon people. 
She was so good herself, so innocent, so honest, 
so trustful, that she actually seemed to create 
a sweeter atmosphere wherever she went. The 
worst of men, while listening to her gentle, 
bright speeches, felt that the world was not so 
bad after all, and that there was still sweetness 
and purity left, to render sin the more shame- 
ful by their white contrast. A fellow wants 
to forget his worst side, when he is with her," 
said one. She makes a man feel that he 
would like to hide his shadinesses even from 
himself." Her effect upon Hector Anstruthers 
was a curious, and rather a dangerous one. She 
made him ashamed of himself, too, and she 
filled his heart with a tender longing and re- 
gret. Had it not been for his experience with 
Lisbeth, he would have loved the girl passion- 
ately. As it was, his affection for her would 
never be more than a brotherly, though in- 
tensely admiring one. He was constantly 
wishing that Fate had given Georgie to him ; 


Miss Crespigny. 73 

Georgia, who seemed to him the purest and 
loveliest of young home goddesses ; Georgia, 
who would have made his life happy, and pure, 
and peaceful. If it had only been Georgia 
instead of Lisbeth. But it had been Lisbeth, 
and his altar-fires had burned out, and left to 
him nothing but a waste of cold, gray ashes. 
And yet, knowing this, he could not quite give 
Georgia up. The mere sight of her fresh, 
bright-eyed face was a help to him, and the 
sound of her voice a balm. He grew fonder 
of her every day, in his way. Her kindly, little 
girlish homilies touched and warmed him. As 
Lisbeth had made him worse, so Georgia Es- 
mond made him better. But the danger ! The 
danger was not for himself, it was for Georgia. 

The day was slowly dawning when the girFs 
innocent friendship and admiration for him 
would become something else. When she be- 
gan to pity him, she began to tread on unsafe 
ground. She had lived through no miserable 
experience ; she had felt no desolating passion ; 
her heart was all untried, and his evident af- 
fection stir^d it softly, even before she un- 
derstood h^ own feelings. She thought her 
budding loVei was pity, and her tenderness 
sympathy. Hb had gone wrong, poor fellow, 
somehow, and she was sorry for him. 


74 


Miss Crespigny, 


I am sure he does not mean the hard things 
he sometimes says/' she said to Lisbeth. I 
think that satirical way of speaking is more a 
bad habit than anything else. Mamma thinks 
so, too, but," with a little guileless blush, ‘‘we 
are both so fond of him, that we cannot help 
being sorry that he has fallen into it." 

“ It is a sort of fashion in these days," re- 
turned Lisbeth, and she longed to add a scorch- 
ing little sneer to the brief comment, but she 
restrained it for Georgie’s sake. 

Positively such a thing had become possible. 
She, who had never restrained her impulses be- 
fore, had gradually learned to control them for 
this simple girl's sake. On the one or two oc- 
casions, early in their acquaintance, when she 
had let her evil spirit get the better of her, the 
sudden pain and wonder in Georgie's face had 
stung her so quickly, that she had resolved to 
hide her iniquities, at least in her presence. 
Sometimes she had even wished that she had 
been softer at heart and less selfish. It was so 
unpleasant to see herself just as she was, when 
she breathed that sweet atmosphere of which 
I have spoken. Georgie Esmond caused her to 
lose patience with Lisbeth Crespigny, upon 
more than one occasion. 

“ I am a hypocrite," she said to herself. “ If 


Miss Crespigyiy. 


75 


she knew me as I am, what would she think of 
me? What would Mrs. Esmond say if she 
knew how cavalierly her ^ dear Lisbeth * had 
treated those three loving old souls at Pen'yl- 
lan ? I am gaining everything on false pre- 
tenses.’^ And one night, as she sat combing 
her hair before her mirror, she added, fiercely, 
I am false and selfish all through ; and I be- 
lieve they are teaching me to be ashamed of 
myself.” 

The fact was, these two sweet women, this 
sweet mother and daughter, were teaching her 
to be ashamed of herself. She quite writhed 
under her conviction, for she felt herself con- 
victed. Her self-love was wounded, but the 
day came when that perfect, obstinate self-con- 
fidence, which was her chief characteristic, was 
not a little shaken. 

I should like to be a better woman,” she 
would say, in a kind of stubborn anger. It 
has actually come to this, that I would be a 
better woman, if I could, but I cannot. It is 
not in me. I was not born to be a good wo- 
man.” 

The more she saw of the Esmonds, the more 
she learned. The household was such a plea- 
sant one, and was so full of the grace of home 
and kindly affection. How proud the good 


Miss Crespigny, 


76 

old colonel was of his pretty daughter. How 
he enjoyed her triumphs, and approved of the 
taste of her many admirers. How delighted 
he was to escort her to evening parties, or to 
the grandest of balls, and to spend the night 
in watching her dance, and smile, and hold her 
gay little court, entirely ignoring the fact that 
his gout was apt to be troublesome, when he 
wore tight boots instead of his huge slippers. 
It was quite enough for him that his girl was 
enjoying herself, and that people were admir- 
ing her grace, and freshness, and bloom. How 
fond the half-dozen small brothers and sisters 
were of Georgie ! and what a comfort and 
pleasure the girl was to her mother ! It was 
an education to Lisbeth Crespigny to see them 
all together. It even seemed that in time she 
fell somewhat into Georgie's own way of caring 
for other people. How could she help caring 
for the kind hearts that beat so warmly toward 
her. Then, through acquiring, as it were, a 
habit of graciousness, she remembered things 
she had almost forgotten. If she was not born 
to be a good woman, why not try and smooth 
the fact over a little, was her cynical fancy. 
Why not give the three good spinsters at 
Pen'yllan the benefit of her new experience.^ 
It would be so little trouble to gladden their 


Miss Crespigny, 


77 


hearts. So, with an impatient pity for herself 
and them, she took upon herself the task of 
writing to them oftener, and at greater length ; 
and frequently. Before her letters were com- 
pleted, she found herself touched somewhat, 
and even prompted to be a trifle more affec- 
tionate than had been her wont. A poor little 
effort to have made, but the dear, simple souls 
at Pen’yllan greeted the change with tenderest 
joy, and Aunt Millicent, and Aunt Clarissa, and 
Aunt Hetty, each shed tears of ecstasy in se- 
cret — in secret, because, to have shed them 
openly, would have been to admit to one an- 
other that they had each felt their dear Lis- 
beth’s former letters to be cold, or at least not 
absolutely all that could be desired. 

‘'So like dear, dear Philip’s own child,” said 
Miss Clarissa, who was generally the family 
voice. “ You know how often I have remarked, 
sister Henrietta, that our dear Lisbeth was like 
brother Philip in every respect, even though 
at times she is, perhaps, a little more — a little 
more reserved, as it were. Her nature, I am 
sure, is most affectionate.” 

That fortunate and much-caressed young 
man, Mr. Hector Anstruthers, not only met 
Miss Crespigny frequently, but heard much of 
her. Imperfect as she may appear to us, who 


78 


Miss Crespigny, 


sit in judgment upon her, the name of her ad- 
mirers was Legion. Her intimacy with the 
Esmonds led her into very gay and distin- 
guished society, far more illustrious society 
than Mrs. Despard’s patronage had been able 
to afford her. And having this, her little pe- 
culiarities did the rest. Her immense, dusky 
eyes ; her small, pale, piquant face ; her self- 
possession ; her wit, and her numerous capa- 
bilities, attracted people wondrously. Even 
battered old beaux, who had outlived two or 
three generations of beauties, and who were 
fastidious accordingly, found an indescribable 
charm in this caustic, clever young person who 
was really not a beauty at all, if measured ac- 
cording to the usual standard. She was too 
small, too pale, too odd ; but then where could 
one find such great, changeable, dark eyes, such 
artistic taste, such masses of fine hair, such a 
voice ? 

And, apart from that,'* it was said of her, 
‘Hhere is something else. Hear her talk, by 
Jove ! See how she can manage a man, when 
she chooses to take the trouble ; see how little 
she cares for the fine speeches that would in- | 
fluence other women. See her dance, hear her ■ 
sing, and you will begin to understand her. A ^ 
fellow can never fire of her, for she is every- 


Miss Crespigny. 79 

thing she has the whim to be, and she is every- 
thing equally well/^ 

So she is, Heaven knows,'' Hector An- 
struthers muttered, bitterly, looking across the 
room at her, as she stood talking to Colonel 
Esmond. Old Denbigh’s laudatory speech fell 
upon his ears with a significance of its own. 
She could be anything she chose so long as her 
whim lasted ; and there was the end of it. It 
all meant nothing. She was as false when she 
played her pretty part for the benefit of the 
Esmonds, young and old, as when she encour- 
aged these dandies, and ensnared them. With 
Georgie she took up the role of ingenue, that 
was all. She was bad through and through. 
He felt all this sincerely, this night, when he 
heard the men praising her, and he was savage 
accordingly. 


8o 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

' I WILL TELL YOU THE TRUTH FOR ONCE. 

But how was it, the very next night, when 
he dropped in to see Mrs. Despard, and sur- 
prised the syren, reading a letter of Miss Cla- 
rissa's, and reading it in the strangest of moods, 
reading it with a pale face, and heavy, wet 
lashes. 

She did not pretend to hide the traces of her 
mental disturbance. She did not condescend 
to take the trouble. She evidently resented 
his appearance as untimely, but she greeted 
him with indifferent composure. 

Mrs. Despard will come down, as soon as 
she hears that you are here,” she said, and 
then proceeded to fold the letter, and replace 
it in its envelope ; and thus he saw that it bore 
the Pen'yllan post-mark. 

What did such a whim as this mean? he 
asked himself, impatiently, taking in at a glance 
the new expression in her face, and the heavi- 
ness of her gloomy eyes. This was not one of 
her tricks. There was no one here to see her, 
and even if there had been, what end could she 


Miss Crespigny, 


8i 


serve by crying over a letter from Pen'yllan ? 
What, on earth, had she been crying for? He 
had never seen her shed a tear before in his 
life. He had often thought that such a thing 
was impossible, she was so hard. Could it be 
that she was not really so hard, after all, and 
that those three innocent old women could 
reach her heart? But the next minute he 
laughed at the absurdity of the idea, and Lis- 
beth, chancing to raise her eyes, and coolly fix- 
ing them on his face at that moment, saw his 
smile. 

What is the matter ? she asked. 

A demon took possession of him at once. 
What if he should tell her, and see how she 
would answer ? They knew each other. Why 
should they keep up this pretense of being 
nothing but ordinary acquaintances, with no 
unpleasant little drama behind ? 

I was thinking what an amusing blunder 
I had been on the verge of making,” he said. 

She did not answer, but still kept her eyes 
fixed upon him. 

I was trying to account for your sadness, 
on the same grounds that I would account for 
sadness in another woman. I was almost in- 
clined to believe that something, in your let- 
ter, had touched your heart, as it might have 
6 


82 Miss Crespigny, 

touched Georgia Esmond’s. But I checked 
myself in time.” 

^^You checked yourself in time,” she said, 
slowly. That was a good thing.” 

There was a brief silence, during which he 
felt that, as usual, he had gained nothing by his 
sarcasm ; and then suddenly she held out her 
mite of a hand, with Miss Clarissa’s letter in it, 
rather taking him aback. 

‘‘Would you like to read it?” she said. 
“Suppose you do. Aunt Clarissa is an old 
friend of yours. She speaks of you as affec- 
tionately as ever.” 

He could not comprehend the look she wore 
when she said this. It was a queer, calculating 
look, and had a meaning of its own ; but it was 
a riddle he could not read. 

“Take it,” she said, seeing that he hesitated. 
“ I mean what I say. I want you to read it 
all. It may do you good.” 

So, feeling uncomfortable enough, he took it. 
And before he had read two pages, it had af- 
fected him just as Lisbeth had intended that it 
should. The worst of us must be touched by 
pure, unselfish goodness. Miss Clarissa’s sim- 
ple, affectionate outpourings to her dear Lis- 
beth were somewhat pathetic in their way. 
She was so grateful for the tenderness of their 


Miss Crespigny. 


83 


dear girFs last letter, so sweet-tempered were 
her ready excuses for its rather late arrival, her 
kind old heart was plainly so wholly dedicated 
to the perfections of the dear girl in question, 
that by the time Anstruthers had reached the 
conclusion of the epistle he found himself inde- 
scribably softened in mind, though he really 
could not have told why. He did not think 
that he had softened toward Lisbeth herself, 
but it was true, nevertheless, that he had sof- 
tened toward her, in a secretly puzzled way. 

Lisbeth had risen from her seat, and was 
standing before him, when he handed back the 
letter, and she met his eyes just as she had 
done before. 

They are very fond of me, you see,’' she 
said. ^^They even believe that I have a real 
affection for them. They think I am capable 
of it, just as Georgie Esmond does. Poor 
Georgie ! Poor Aunt Clarissa ! Poor Aunt 
Millicent ! Poor everybody, indeed ! ” And 
she suddenly ended, and turned away from 
him, toward the fire. 

But in a minute more she spoke again. 

I wonder if I am capable of it,” she said. 
“ I wonder if I am.” 

He could only see her side face, but something 
in her tone roused him to a vehement reply. 


84 


Miss Crespigny, 


God knows/' he said, I do not. I do 
not understand you, and never shall." 

She turned to him abruptly then, and let 
him see her whole face, pale, with a strange, 
excited pallor, her eyes wide, and sparkling, 
and wet. 

‘‘That is true," she said. “You do not un- 
derstand. I do not understand myself, but — 
Well, I have told you lies enough before, 
when it has suited me. Now, I will tell you 
the truth, for once. Your blunder was not 
such a blunder, after all. My heart has been 
touched, just as a better woman's might have 
been — almost as Georgie's might have been. 
And this letter touched it — this effusion of poor 
Aunt Clarissa's ; and that was why I was cry- 
ing when you came into the room — why I am 
crying now." And having made ^lis unlooked- 
for confession, she walked out of the room, 
just as Mrs. Despard came in. 

On his next visit to his friends, the Es- 
monds, Mr. Anstruthers found the pretty head 
of the lovely Miss Georgie full of a new pro- 
ject. Had he not heard the news ? She was 
going to Pen'yllan with Lisbeth, and they were 
to stay with the Misses Tregarthyn. Miss Cla- 
rissa had written the kindest letter, the dear- 
est, most affectionate letter, as affectionate as 


Miss Crespigny, 85 

if she had known her all her life. Wasn't it 
delightful ? 

So much nicer, you know, than going to 
some stupid, fashionable place," said Miss, 
Georgie, with bright eyes, and the brightest of 
fresh roses on her cheeks. ^‘Not that I am 
so ungrateful as to abuse poor old Brighton, 
and the rest ; but this will be something new." 

And new things are always better than old 
ones," suggested Anstruthers. 

Some new things always are," answered 
Georgie, with spirit. New virtues, for in- 
stance, are better than old follies. New reso- 
lutions to be charitable, instead of old tenden- 
cies to be harsh. New " 

I give it up ! " interposed Hector. And 
I will agree with you. I always agree with 
you, Georgie," in a softer tone. 

The poor, pretty face bloomed into blush- 
rose color, and the sweet eyes met his with in- 
nocent trouble. 

‘‘Not always," said Georgie. “You don't 
agree with me when I tell you that you are not 
as good as you ought to be — as you might be, 
if you would try." 

“ Am I such a bad fellow, then ? " drawing 
nearer to her. “ Ah, Georgie ! etc., etc. " un- 

til, in fact, he wandered off in spite of himself. 


86 


Miss Crespigny, 


into that most dangerous ground, of which I 
have already spoken. 

Actually, within the last few days, the idea 
had occurred to him, that, perhaps — possibly, 
just possibly — he would not be going so far 
wrong, if he let himself drift into a gentle pas- 
sion for Georgie. Perhaps, after all, he could 
give her. a better love than he had ever given 
to Lisbeth Crespigny. It would be a quieter 
love. Was not a man's second love always 
quieter than the first, and at the same time 
was it not always more endurable and deep ? 
But perhaps he could make it a love worthy of 
her. Mind you, he was not shallow or coarse 
enough to think that anything would do ; any 
mock sentiment, any semblance of affection. 
It was only that he longed to anchor himself 
somehow, and admired and trusted this warm- 
souled -young creature so earnestly, that he in- 
stinctively turned toward her. She was far 
too good for him, he told himself, and it was 
only her goodness that could help her to over- 
look his many faults ; but perhaps she would 
overlook them ; and perhaps, in time, out of 
the ashes of that wretched passion of his youth, 
might arise a phoenix, fair enough to be worthy 
of her womanhood. 

So he was something more tender, and so his 


Miss Crespigny, 


87 


new tenderness showed itself in his handsome 
face, and in a certain regret that he was to 
lose what Pen'yllan and the Misses Tregarthyn 
were to gain. 

‘‘Will you let me come to see you?'' he 
asked, at last. “ Will you " 

But there he stopped, remembering Lisbeth. 
How would she like such a plan ? 

“ Why should you not ? " said Georgie, with 
a pleased blush. “ I have heard you say that 
the Misses Tregarthyn have asked you again 
and again. And they seem so fond of you ; 
and I am sure mamma and papa would be quite 
glad if you would run down and look at us, and 
then run back and tell them all the news. And 
as to Lisbeth, Lisbeth never objects to any- 
thing. I think she likes you well enough when 
you are good. Come, by all means." And she 
seemed to regard his proposition as so natural 
and pleasant, that he had no alternative but to 
profess to regard it as such himself ; and so it 
was agreed upon, that, in course of time, he 
should follow them to Pen'yllan. 


88 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER IX. 

WE MUST ALWAYS BE TRUE. 

Indeed, he drifted so far this evening, that 
there is no knowing how sad a story this of 
mine might have been, if the fates had not 
been kinder to pretty Georgie Esmond than 
they are to the generality of people. Surely it 
must have been because she deserved some- 
thing better than the fortune of a disappointed 
woman, that chance interposed in her behalf 
before she went to sleep that night. 

She had enjoyed herself very much during 
Hector’s visit. She had sung her sweetest 
songs, and had been in the brightest of good 
spirits. Inded, she had been very happy, and 
perhaps had felt her innocent, warm heart 
stirred a little, once or twice, by the young 
man’s tender speeches, though she was very 
far from being in the frame of mind to analyze 
the reasons for her gentle pleasure. 

When her visitor had taken his departure, 
she came to the colonel’s arm-chair, and pos- 
sibly feeling somewhat conscience-stricken, be- 
cause she had left ‘‘ papa ” to his own resources 


89 


Miss Crespigny, 

for so long a time, she applied herself to the task 
of petting him in her most seductive manner. 

You are very quiet, papa,” she said, settling 
herself upon a footstool, at his side. I hope 
you are not going to* have the gout again, dar- 
ling. Mamma, what shall we do with him, if 
he insists on having the gout, when I am going 
to Pen’yllan ? I shall have to stay at home, 
and so will Lisbeth. He cannot possibly dis- 
pense with us, when he has the gout.” 

But I am not going to have the gout,” pro- 
tested the colonel, stoutly. I am quite well, 
my dear ; but the fact is — the fact is, I was 
thinking of a discovery I made this evening — a 
discovery about Anstruthers.” 

Hector?” exclaimed Georgie, half-uncon- 
sciously, and then turned her bright eyes upon 
the shining fender. 

^^Yes,” proceeded Colonel Esmond. ‘‘Hec- 
tor himself. I believe I have found out what 
has changed him so — so deucedly, not to put 
too fine a point upon it — during the last four 
or five years. You remember what a frank, 
warm-hearted lad he was, at three-and-twenty, 
Jennie ? ” to Mrs. Esmond. 

“ Papa,” interposed Georgie, “ do you really 
think he has changed for the worse ? In his 
heart, I mean.” 


90 


Miss Crespigny, 


He has not changed for the better/’ an- 
swered the colonel. But his heart is all right, 
my dear.” 

I am sure,” said Georgie, a little piteously. 
I am sure he is good at heart.” 

Of course he is,” said the colonel. But 
he has altered very much, in many respects. 
And Jennie, my dear, I have discovered that 
the trouble was the one you hinted at, in the 
beginning. There was a woman in the case. 
A woman who treated him shamefully.” 

She must have been very heartless,” said 
Georgie. Poor Hector ! ” 

The colonel warmed up. 

She was shamefully heartless, she was dis- 
gracefully, unnaturally heartless! Such cold- 
blooded, selfish cruelty would have been unnat- 
ural in a mature woman, and she was nothing 
more than a school-girl, a mere child. I con- 
gratulate myself that I did not learn her name. 
The man who told me the story had not heard 
it. If I knew it, and should ever chance to 
meet her, by George ! ” with virtuous indigna- 
tion, I don’t see how a man of honor could 
remain in the same room with such a woman.” 

And then he poured out what he had heard 
of the story, and an unpleasant enough sound 
it had, when related with all the additional 


Miss Crespigny, 9 1 

coloring confidential report had given it. It 
was bad enough to begin with, but it was worse 
for having passed through the hands of the 
men who had gathered it together, by scraps, 
and odds, and ends, and joined it as they 
thought best. 

And the worst of it is,’' ended Colonel 
Esmond, that he has not lived it down, as he 
fancies he has done. At least there are those 
who think so. It is said the girl is here in 
town now, and though they are not friends, 
Anstruthers cannot keep away from her alto- 
gether, and is always most savage and reckless 
when he has seen her.” 

Poor fellow ! ” said Georgie, in a low, quiet 
voice. Poor Hector ! ” 

But she did not look up at any one, as she 
spoke. Indeed she had not looked up, even 
once, during the time in which this unpleasant 
story had been told. 

Having heard it, she confronted it very sen- 
sibly. When, indeed, was she not sweet and 
sensible? While she listened, a hundred past 
incidents rushed back upon her. She remem- 
bered things she had heard Hector say, and 
things she had seen him do ; she remembered 
certain restless moods of his, certain desperate 
whims and fancies, and she began to compre- 


92 


Miss Crespigny, 


hend what their meaning was. Her vague fan- 
cies of his unhappiness found a firm foundation. 
He was wretched, and broken in faith, because 
this cruel girl had robbed him of his honest 
belief in love, and truth, and goodness. Ah, 
poor Hector ! She did not say very much 
while the colonel and Mrs. Esmond discussed 
the matter, but she was thinking very deeply, 
and when she bade them good night, and went 
up to her room, there was a sad sort of thought- 
fulness in her face. 

She did not begin to undress at once, but 
sat down by her toilet table, and rested her 
fresh cheek on her hand. 

I wonder who it was?’' she said, softly. 
Who could it be ? Whom did he know when 
he was three-and-twenty ? ” 

Surely some fate guided her eyes, just at 
that moment, guided them to the small, half- 
opened note, lying at her elbow; a note so 
opened that the signature alone presented itself 
to her glance. Your affectionate Lisbeth.” 

She gave a little start, and then flushed up 
with a queer agitation. 

Lisbeth ! ” she said, “ Lisbeth ! ” And 
then, with quite a self-reproach in her tone. 
Oh, no! Not Lisbeth. How could I say it? 
Not Lisbeth!” She put out her hand and 


Miss Crespigny. 


93 


took up the note, protestingly. I could not 
bear to think it,” she said. It might be any- 
one else, but not Lisbeth.” And yet the next 
minute a new thought forced itself upon her, a 
memory of some words of Lisbeth’s own. 

We were nothing but a couple of children 
when we met at Pen yllan,” that young lady 
had said, a few days before, a trifle cavalierly. 

He was only three-and-twenty, and as for 
me, what was I but a child, a school-girl, not 
much more than sixteen.” 

But,” protested Georgie, her eyes shining 
piteously, and the moisture forcing itself into 
them, but it might not have been she ; and if 
it was Lisbeth he loved, the story may have 
been exaggerated. Such stories always are; 
and if any part of it is true, she was so young, 
and did not know what she was doing. It was 
not half so wrong in Lisbeth as it would have 
been in me, who have had mamma all my life 
to teach me the difference between right and 
wrong. She had nobody but the Misses Tre- 
garthyn ; and people who are good are not 
always wise.” 

She was not very wise herself, poor, loving, 
little soul ! At least she was not worldly wise. 
She could not bear the thought of connecting 
that cruel story with her most precious Lis- 


94 


Miss Crespigny. 


beth, in whom she had never yet found a fault. 
And if it must be connected with her, what I 
excuses might there not be ! Oh, she was so 
sure that it was an exaggerated story, and that, 
if the truth were known, Lisbeth's fault had 
only risen out of Lisbeth’s youth and inno- 
cence. She was so disturbed abour her friend, 
that it was quite a long time before she remem- 
bered that she had a quiet little pain of her 
own to contend with, only the ghost of a pain 
as yet, but a ghost which, but for this timely 
check, might have been very much harder to 
deal with than it was. 

I think,” she said, at last, blushing a little at 
the sound of her own words, ‘‘ I think that, per- 
haps, I was beginning to care for Hector more 
than for any one else ; and I am glad that papa 
told me this, before — before it was too late. 

I think I should have been more sorry, after 
a little time, than I am now ; and I ought to 
be thankful. If I did not mean to be sensible, 
instead of sentimental, perhaps I should try 
to believe that what is said is not true, and 
that he has really lived his trouble down ; but 
I would rather be sensible, and believe that he 
only means to think of me as his friend, as he 
has done all his life. I must think that,” she 
thought, eagerly. “ I must remember it al- 


Miss Crespigny. 


95 


ways, when he is with me. It would be best. 
And if it is Lisbeth he has loved, and he loves 
her yet, I — I must try to help them to forgive 
each other.’' And here she bent her face, and 
as she touched the note lightly with her lips, a 
bright drop, like a jewel, fell upon the paper. 
“ We must always be true to each other,” she 
whispered, tremulously. This would be a sad 
world if people were not true to each other, 
and ready to make little sacrifices for the sake 
of those they love.” 

And thus it was that the innocent white rose 
of love, just turning to the sun, folded its fresh 
petals, and became a bud again. It was better 
as it was, much better that it should be a bud 
for a longer time, than that it should bloom 
too early, and lose its too lavish beauty before 
the perfect summer came. 


96 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER X. 

PEN’YLLAN. 

Emulating the example of the Mi§ses Tre- 
garthyn, Pen’yllan had put on its best dress to 
grace the occasion of the arrival of the visitors. 
As they drove from the little railway station, 
Lisbeth was of the opinion that she had never 
s§en the sea so blue, and cool, and sparkling, 
the sands so silver white, or the village so pic- 
turesque. The truth was, the sight of it quite 
subdued her, and invested her with one of her 
softest and most charitable moods. 

I did not know it was so pretty,'' she said. 

I believe we shall enjoy ourselves, Georgie." 

Georgie was enraptured. Everything pleased 
her. The sea, the beach, the sky, the quaint, 
white cottages, the bare-legged children, the old 
Welsh women in their steeple hats and woollen 
petticoats. The up-hill streets of the village 
were delighful ; the little bandbox of a railway 
station was incomparable. She had been rather 
pale and tired during the journey, but as soon 
as she set her feet upon the platform at Pen’yl- 
lan, her pallor and fatigue dfeappeared. The 


Miss Crespigny, 


97 


fresh breeze from the sea tinged her cheeks, 
and made her eyes sparkle, and she was in the 
best of good spirits. 

I never saw such a dear little place in my 
life,’' she said, delightedly. Enjoy ourselves, 
Lisbeth ? Why, as you know, I feel just as I 
used to when we were all children, and went to 
the sea-side with mamma and the nurses, and 
dug caves in the sand with wooden spades, and 
built forts, and looked for shells. I am going 
to make friends with those little urchins on the 
beach to-morrow, and ask them to play wjyth 
me.” ^ 

Behold the Tregarthyn household, arrayed in 
all its modest splendor, when the carriage drove 
up to the garden gate. Behold the neatest of 
young handmaidens, brisk and blue-eyed, and 
the smallest of pages standing ready to assist 
with the boxes, and admire the young ladies 
with an exceeding admiration. Behold, also, 
the three Misses Tregarthyn, in the trimmest 
of company ” dresses, and in such a state of 
affectionate tremor and excitement, that they 
kissed their dear Lisbeth on the tip of the nose 
by one consent, instead of bestowing their de- 
lighted caresses upon her lips. 

So very happy to see you, my love,” said 
Miss Clarissa, squeezing Georgie’s hand, as she 
7 


98 


Miss Crespigny, 


led the way into the parlor. Our dear Lis- 
beth's friend, I hope you are not tired, and 
that you left your mamma and papa quite well. 
Our dear Lisbeth is so tenderly attached to 
your mamma and papa, that if such a thing 
were possible, we should be quite jealous.'' 

‘‘ They are quite as much attached to her, I 
can assure you," answered Georgie, in her pret- 
ty, earnest way. Indeed, we all are, Miss 
Clarissa. Everybody is fond of Lisbeth." And 
thereby rendered her position as a favorite 
secure at once. 

Indeed, she found her way to the heart of 
the spinster household in an incredibly short 
space of time. Miss Millicent, and Miss Hetty, 
and Miss Clarissa were charmed with her. Her 
pretty face and figure, her girlish gayety, her 
readiness to admire and enjoy everything, were 
attractions enough to enchant any spinster trio, 
even if she had not possessed that still greater 
charm of being Lisbeth's dearest friend. 

The two girls shared Lisbeth's old room to- 
gether ; a cool nest of a place, with white drape- 
ries, and quaint ornaments, and all the child 
Lisbeth’s treasures, of land and sea, still kept 
in their original places. 

It looks exactly as it did when I went away 
with Mrs. Despard," said Lisbeth, glancing 


Miss Crespigny, 


99 


round, with a sigh, which meant she scarce 
knew what. I gathered that sea-weed when 
I was fourteen, and I was always engaged in 
difficulties with the cooks, because I would bring 
in more shells than I wanted, and leave piles 
of them in the kitchen. Aunt Clarissa sent 
one woman away because we had a row, and 
she said I was ‘ a imperent young minx, alius 
litterin’ the place with my rubbidge.’ How 
the dear old souls did spoil me. If I had 
brought a whale into the drawing-room, they 
would have regretted, but never resented it. 
I had my own way often enough when I ought 
to have had my ears boxed.” 

^‘You must have been very happy in their 
loving you so,” said Georgie, who had drawn a 
low wicker chair to the open window, and was 
enjoying the moonlight and the sea. 

“You would have been,” returned Lisbeth, 
drawing up chair number two. “ And you 
would have behaved yourself better than I did. 
I was an ill-conditioned young person, even in 
those days.” 

They were both silent for a while after this. 
There was a lovely view from the window, and 
all was so still that neither cared to stir for a 
few moments. Then the thoughtfulness on 
Georgie’s face attracted Lisbeth’s attention. 


lOO Miss Crespigny. 

I should like to know/' she said, what 
you are thinking about ? " 

The girl drew a positively ecstatic little sigh. 

I was thinking how sweet and quiet every- 
thing looked/' she said, innocently; ^‘and how 
much happier I am." 

Happier? " exclaimed Lisbeth. When 
were you unhappy, Georgie ? " 

The surprise in her tone brought Georgie to 
a recognition of what her words had uncon- 
sciously implied. She found herself blushing, 
and wondering at her own simplicity. She had 
not meant to say so much. She could not 
comprehend why she should have said any- 
thing of that kind at all. 

It is strange enough to hear that you can 
be made happier than you always seem to be," 
said Lisbeth. You speak as if — " And then, 
her quick eye taking in the girl’s trepidation, 
she stopped short. ‘‘You never had a trouble, 
Georgie ? " she added, in a voice very few of 
her friends would have known ; it was so soft. 

“No," said Georgie. “Oh, no, Lisbeth! 
Not a trouble, exactly; not a trouble at all, 
indeed ; only — " And suddenly she turned 
her bright, appealing eyes to Lisbeth's face. 
“ I don't know why I said it," she said. “ It 
was nothing real, Lisbeth, or else I am sure 


Miss Crespigny, loi 

you would have known. But it — Well, I 
might have had a trouble, and I was saved from 
it, and I am glad, and — thankful.’' And, to 
Miss Crespigny’s surprise, she bent forward, 
and kissed her softly on the cheek. 

Lisbeth asked her no questions. She was 
not fond of asking questions, and she was a 
young person of delicacy and tact, when she 
was in an affectionate mood. She was too par- 
tial to Georgie to wish to force her into telling 
her little secrets. But a certain thought flashed 
through her mind, as she sat with her eyes rest- 
ing on the sea. 

She is the sort of girl,” she said, sharply, 
to herself, ‘‘who would be likely to have no 
trouble but a love trouble. Who has been 
making love to her, or rather, who, among 
all her admirers, would be likely to touch her 
heart ? ” 

But this mental problem was by no means 
easy to solve. There were so many men who 
admired Georgie Esmond, and such a large pro- 
portion of them were men whom any girl might 
have loved. 

It was one of Lisbeth’s chief wonders, that 
Georgie, who was so soft of heart, and ready 
with affection, should have held her own so 
long against so agreeable a multitude of adorers. 


102 


Miss Crespigny. 


Certainly, if she had lived through any little 
romance, she had kept her secret well. She 
did not look like a love-lorn young lady when 
she came down, the next morning, fresh and 
rosy, and prepared to explore Pen’yHan in all 
its fastnesses. It was exhilarating to see her ; 
and the Misses Tregarthyn were delighted be- 
yond bounds. She made a pilgrimage through 
half the up-and-down-hill little streets in the 
village, and, before dinner, had managed to drag 
Lisbeth a mile along the shore, against a stiff 
breeze, which blew their long, loose hair about, 
and tinted their cheeks brilliantly. Lisbeth 
followed her with an amused wonder at her en- 
thusiasm, mingled with discontent at her own 
indifference. It was she who ought to have 
been in raptures, and she was not in raptures 
at all. Had she no natural feeling whatever ? 
Any other woman would have felt a sentimental 
tenderness for the place which had been her 
earliest home. 

They had found a comfortable nook behind 
a cluster of sheltering rocks, and were sitting 
on the sand, when Lisbeth arrived at this stage 
of thought. The place was an old haunt of 
hers, and Hector Anstruthers had often fol- 
lowed her there in their boy and girl days ; 
and the sight of the familiar stretch of sea and 


Miss Crespigny. 


103 


sand irritated her somehow. She picked up a 
shell, and sent it skimming away toward the 
water, with an impatient gesture. 

Georgie,'' she said, I should like to know 
what you see in Pen yllan to please you so.'' 

Everything," said Georgie. ‘‘And then, 
somehow, I seem to know it. I think its chief 
attraction is, that you lived here so long." 

Lisbeth picked up another shell, and sent it 
skimming after the other. 

“ What a girl you are ! " she said. “ It is 
always your love and your heart that are 
touched. You are all heart. You love peo- 
ple, and you love everything that belongs to 
them ; their homes, their belongings, their re- 
lations. It is not so with me ; it never was. 
You are like what Hector Anstruthers was, 
when I first knew him. Bah ! " with a shrug 
of his shoulders. “ How fond the foolish fel- 
low was of Aunt Hetty, and Aunt Millicent, 
and Aunt Clarissa." 

Her tongue had slipped, just as Georgie's 
had done the night before. For the moment 
she forgot herself entirely, and only remem- 
bered that old sentimental affection of her 
boyish lover; that affection for her spinster 
relatives, which, in the past, had impressed her 
as being half troublesome and half absurd. 


104 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A CONFESSION. 

Georgie turned to her, taking sudden cour- 
age. 

Lisbeth,'' she said, you never told me 
much about your acquaintance with Hector 
Anstruthers. I wonder how it was. You 
knew him very well, it seems.’' 

I wish,” broke out Lisbeth, almost angrily, 
‘‘ that I had never known him at all.” 

The faithful heart, beating in the breast of 
the girl at her side, leaped nervously. 

‘‘ It was Lisbeth,” said she to herself. “ It 
was Lisbeth.” 

I wish,” repeated Lisbeth, frowning at the 
sea, that I had never seen him.” 

Why? ” was Georgie’s quiet question. 

Because — because it was a bad thing for 
us both,” in greater impatience than ever. 

Georgie looked up at her sadly. 

Why, again ? ” she ventured, in her soft 
voice. She could not help it. 

But for a moment Lisbeth did not answer* 


los 


Miss Crespigny, 

She had risen, and stood leaning against the 
rock, a queer look on her face, a queer darken- 
ing in her eyes. At length she broke into a 
little, hard laugh, as if she meant to defy her- 
self to be emotional. 

How horror-stricken you would be, if I 
were to tell you why,” she said. 

Does that mean,” Georgie put it to her 
‘‘ that you were unkind to him ? ” 

‘‘It means,” was her strange reply — “it 
means that it was I who ruined his life for- 
ever.” 

She made the confession fairly, in spite of 
herself. And she was emotional — vehement. 
She could not stand this innocent Georgie, and 
her beliefs any longer. She had been slowly 
approaching this mood for months, and now 
every inner and outer influence seemed to com- 
bine against her natural stubborn secretive- 
ness. Perhaps Pen'yllan, the sea, the shore, 
the sky, helped her on to the end. At any 
rate, she must tell the truth this once, and hear 
what this innocent Georgie would say to it. 

“ I ruined his life for him,” she repeated. 
“ I broke his faith. I believe I am to blame 
for every evil change the last few years have 
wrought in him. I, myself — Lisbeth. Do you 
hear, Georgie ? ” 


io6 Miss Crespigny. 

The face under Georgie’s straw hat was 
rather pale, but it was not horror-stricken. 

‘‘You were too young,” she faltered, “to 
understand.” 

“Too young?” echoed Lisbeth. “I never 
was young in my life. I was born old. I 
was born a woman, and I was born cold and 
hard. That was it. If I had been like other 
girls, he would have touched my heart, after 
he had touched my vanity, or he might 
even have touched my heart first. You 
would have loved him with all your soul. 
Are you willing to hear the whole history, 
Georgie ? ” 

“ Quite willing. Only,” and she raised her 
face with a bright, resolute, affectionate look, 
“you cannot make me think harshly of you. 
So, don’t try, Lisbeth.” 

Lisbeth regarded her with an entirely new 
expression, which had, nevertheless, a shade of 
her old wonder in it. 

“ I really do not believe I could,” she said. 
“ You are very hard to deal with ; at least I find 
it hard to deal with you. You are a new ex- 
perience. If there was just a little flavor of in- 
sincerity or uncharitableness in you, if you 
would be false to your beliefs now and then, 
I should know what to do ; but, as it is, you 


Miss Crespigny, 107 

are perplexing. Notwithstanding, here comes 
the story.'’ 

She put her hands behind her, and bracing 
herself against the rock, told it from beginning 
to end, in her coolest, most daring way, even 
with a half-defiant air. If she had been telling 
some one else’s story, she could not have been 
more caustic and unsparing, more determined 
to soften no harsh outline, or smooth over any- 
thing. She set the girl Lisbeth before her lis- 
tener, just as Lisbeth Crespigny at seventeen 
had been. Selfish, callous, shallow, and deep, at 
once : restless, ungrateful, a half-ripe coquette, 
who, notwithstanding her crudeness, was yet 
far too ripe for her age. She pictured the hon- 
est, boyish young fellow, who had fallen victim 
to her immature fascinations, simply because 
he was too guileless and romantic to see in 
any woman anything but a goddess. She de- 
scribed his sincerity, his unselfish willingness to 
bear her caprices, and see no wrong in them ; 
his lavish affection for every thing and every 
one who shared his love for her ; his readiness 
to believe, his tardiness to doubt and see her 
as she really was ; the open-hearted faith which 
had made the awakening so much harder to 
bear, when it forced itself upon him at last. 
She left out the recital of no petty wrong she 


Miss Crespigny, 


io8 

had done him, and no small tyranny or indig- 
nity she had made him feel. She told the 
whole story, in fact, as she saw it now ; not 
as she had seen it in that shallow, self-ruled 
girlhood ; and when she had touched upon 
everything, and ended with that last scene in 
the garden, among Aunt Clarissa’s roses, she 
stopped. 

And there was a silence. 

Georgie’s eyelashes were wet, and so were 
her cheeks. A tear or so stained her pink 
cravat. It was so sorrowful. Poor Hector 
again ! And then, of course, poor Lisbeth ! 
By her own showing, Lisbeth deserved no pity ; 
but the warm young heart gave her pity 
enough, and to spare. Something had been 
wrong somewhere. Indeed, it seemed as if 
everything had been wrong, but — Poor Lis- 
beth ! She was so fond of Lisbeth herself, and 
mamma was so fond of her, and the Misses Tre- 
garthyn. So many people were fond of Lis- 
beth. 

And then Lisbeth’s voice startled her. A 
new voice, tremulous and as if her mood was a 
sore and restive one. 

You are crying, of course, Georgie ? I knew 
you would.” 

I have been crying.” 


Miss Crespigny, 109 

Pause enough to allow of a struggle, and 
then — 

Well, since you are crying, I suppose I may 
cry, too. It is queer enough that I should cry, 
but — And to Georgie's amazement and trou- 
ble, Lisbeth put her hand up on the rough rock, 
and laid her face against it. 

Lisbeth ! cried the girl. 

Wait a moment,” said Lisbeth. don’t 

know what has Come over me. It is a new 
thing for me. I — I ” 

It was a new thing, indeed, and it did not 
last very long. When she raised her head, and 
turned again, her eyelashes were wet, too, and 
she was even pale. 

‘^Ah, Lisbeth!” said Georgie, pitying her, 
you are sorry.” 

Lisbeth smiled, faintly. 

I never was sorry before for anything I 
had done; never, in my life,” she answered. 

I have had a theory that people should take 
care of themselves, as I did. But now — 
Well, I suppose I am sorry — for Hector An- 
struthers ; and perhaps a little for myself. No 
one will offer me such an unreasoning love 
again. Very few women are offered such a 
love once; but I always got more than my 
share of everything. It is my way. I suppose 


no Miss Crespigny. 

I was born under a lucky star. Georgie, what 
do you think of me now ? 

Georgie got up, and kissed her, in a most 
earnest fashion. 

What ? cried Lisbeth, with a dubious 
smile. ‘^You can't be moral, and improving, 
and sanctimonious, even now. Think what an 
eloquent lecture you might read me ! I have 
sometimes thought I was merely created to 
point a moral, or adorn a tale ! See how reck- 
less I am, after all. You ought to be down on 
me, Georgie. It is your duty, as a well-trained 
young woman of the period." 

Then," said Georgie, I can't do my duty. 
You are so different from other people. How 
can I pretend to understand what has made 
you do things that other people are not 
tempted to do? And then you know how 
fond I am of you, Lisbeth." 

^^You are a good, pure little soul!" cried 
Lisbeth, her pale face flushing excitedly. ‘‘And 
the world is a thousand times better for your 
being in it. I am better myself, and Heaven 
knows I need something to make me better. 
Here, let me take hold of your hand, and let 
us go home." 

And as they turned homeward, on the beach, ''y 
hand-in-hand, like a couple of children, Georgie 


Miss Crespigny, 


III 


saw that there were tears in the inconsistent 
creature's eyes again. 

They did not say much upon the subject 
after this. That wise young woman, Miss Es- 
mond, felt that it was a subject of far too deli- 
cate a nature to be lightly touched upon. It 
had been Lisbeth's secret so long, that, even 
after this confidence, she could not help regard- 
ing it as Lisbeth’s secret still. Perhaps she 
felt in private that there were certain little con- 
fidences of her own, which she would scarcely 
be willing even for Lisbeth to refer to, as if 
they were her own property. For instance, 
that accidental confession, made in the bed- 
room, on the first night they had spent in it 
together. How glad she had been that Lis- 
beth had let it pass, as if she had not noticed 
it very particularly. But though the subject 
was not discussed, is it to be supposed that it 
was not brought to mind at all, but was buried 
in oblivion ? Certainly not. While that terse 
young woman. Miss Esmond, said little, she 
thought much, and deeply. She had constant- 
ly before her a problem, which she was very 
anxious to work out. Was it not possible that 
these two interesting beings might be brought 
to — might be induced to — well, not to put too 
fine a point upon it — to think better of each 


1 12 Miss Crespigny. 

other, and the unfortunate past, and the world 
generally? Would it not be dreadful to think 
that so much poetic material had been lost? 
That these two who might have been so happy, 
should drift entirely apart, and leave their ro- 
mance incomplete, as the most unsatisfactory 
of novels? Probably, having sensibly, even if 
with a little pang, given up that bud of a ro- 
mance of her own, the girl felt the need of 
some loving plot to occupy her mind ; and if 
so, it was quite natural and very charming, that 
she should turn to her friend. Hector would 
make his appearance one of these fine days, 
and then, perhaps, Pen’yllan, and its old fami- 
liar scenes, would soften his heart, as she had 
an idea they had softened Lisbeth's. Surely, 
old memories would touch him tenderly, and 
make him more ready to forgive his injuries. 
In fact. Miss Georgie painted for herself some 
very pretty mental pictures, in which the fig- 
ures of Lisbeth and her ex-lover were always 
the prominent features. Lisbeth in the tryst- 
ing-place, the sea-breeze blowing her beautiful 
hair about, and coloring her pale face ; that 
queer mist of tears in her mysterious eyes. 
Lisbeth, in one of her soft moods, making 
those strange, restive, unexpected speeches, 
which were so fascinating, because so unlooked- 


Miss Crespigny, 


113 


for, and Hector Anstruthers standing by, and 
listening. Such interesting little scenes as 
these she imagined, and, having imagined them, 
positively drew some consolation from their 
phantom existence. 


Miss Crespigny. 


1 14 


CHAPTER XII. 

A VISITOR. 

In the meantime, however, she made herself 
very agreeable and attractive to her hostesses, 
and enjoyed Pen'yllan very much, in a girlish 
way. She explored the tiny village, and the 
rude shore. She made friends with fishermen, 
and their wives, and sturdy children. She won 
admiration on every side by her pretty interest 
in everything appertaining to the Pen’yllanites. 
She took long walks on the sands, and brought 
home shells, and sea-weed, and pebbles, with 
such honest delight in any trifling rarity, as 
made Lisbeth look on and feel restless, and the 
Misses Tregarthyn grow young again, unitedly. 

I wish, my dear,’' said Miss Clarissa to 
Lisbeth, ^‘that you enjoyed yourself as much; 
but — but I am afraid you do not. I am afraid 
you find Pen’yllan rather dull.” 

‘‘ I never found Pen’yllan so pleasant in my 
life before, but you know I am not like Georgie,” 
said Lisbeth. ‘‘ Pen’yllan is all right. Aunt 
Clarissa, and I enjoy myself here more than I 
should anywhere else.” 


Miss Crespigny, 


115 

I am glad to hear you say that, my love,” 
Miss Clarissa faltered. Sometimes, do you 
know, I have really fancied that you were not 
quite — quite happy ? ” 

Lisbeth got up from her chair, and came to 
the window, her incomprehensible eyes reach- 
ing far out to sea. 

Happy ! ” she echoed, absently. Is any- 
body happy? What a conundrum to answer? 
As for me, I give it up.” 

She gave up a good many things during these 
weeks at Pen’yllan. She was wont to be fond 
of a certain cool class of metaphysics, but 
somehow things of that order seemed to slip 
from her grasp. She was not so sure of her 
self as she had been — not so obstinately com- 
placent. Indeed, she had never been so ill- 
satisfied and out of patience with Lisbeth Cres- 
pigny in her life. 

In the course of a week or so. Hector Anstru- 
thers came, as he had promised. One quiet 
afternoon. Miss Millicent, who was sitting at the 
window, looked out into the garden, with a sud- 
den expression of surprise. 

Sister Clarissa ! ” she exclaimed, ‘‘ Miss Es- 
mond, there is a gentleman coming up the 
walk ; a young gentleman, and really a very 
handsome one. Do either of you know him ? 


ii6 Miss Crespigny, 

Dear me, his face seems very familiar. It can't 
be " 

Georgie ran to the window, and the next 
minute was waving her kind little hand to the 
individual in question, and smiling, and nod- 
ding her head. 

‘^You ought to know him. Miss Tregarthyn," 
she said. 'Mt is Mr. Hector Anstruthers." 

Oh ! " broke forth Miss Clarissa, in some 
distress. 

‘‘And Lisbeth is here! I do hope, sister 
Millicent " 

“He saw Lisbeth very often when she was at 
home," explained Georgie, feeling very guilty, 
and extremely fearful of committing herself. 
“ I know Lisbeth did not like him very well 
at first, but he was one of Mrs. Despard's favor- 
ites, and — he is a sort of cousin of mine." 

It was a great relief to the Misses Tregar- 
thyn, this piece of news. They remembered 
various unpleasant little episodes of the past 
too well, to have confronted serenely the re- 
responsibility of bringing their dear Lisbeth 
face to face with this young man again. In- 
deed, Miss Millicent had turned pale, and Miss 
Clarissa had lost her breath at the mere thought 
of it. They had hardly recovered themselves, 
when the visitor was handed into the room. 


Miss Crespigny, 117 

But, of course, what Miss Esmond said must 
be correct, and, under such circumstances, how 
delightful it would be to welcome this genius 
and hero to Pen’yllan once more. 

They had heard wondrous reports of his ca- 
reer from chance visitors, even though the be- 
loved Lisbeth had been so reticent. They had 
heard of his good fortune, his good looks, his 
talent, his popularity, and, remembering the 
fair-haired, blue-eyed young fellow, whom Lis- 
beth had snubbed so persistently, they had 
wondered among themselves if all they heard 
could possibly be true. But here was the ad- 
mirable Crichton to speak for himself, and so 
changed was his appearance, so imposing his 
air, so amiable his condescension, that each 
gentle spinster owned in secret that really, 
after all, it seemed probable that rumor, for 
once, had not exaggerated. And it is not to 
be denied that Mr. Hector Anstruthers was 
shown to an advantage upon this occasion. 
On his way from the small bandbox of a sta- 
tion, he had been reminded of many a little 
incident in that far-distant past, which had 
somehow or other warmed his heart toward 
these good, simple souls. They had been true 
and kind, at least. They had never failed him 
from first to last ; they had pitied and tried to 


1 1 8 Miss Crespigny. 

comfort him when his fool’s paradise had been 
so rudely broken into. He remembered how 
Miss Clarissa had stolen down into the garden, 
that last, bitter night, and finding him lying 
full length, face downward, upon the dewy 
grass, among the roses, had bent over him, and 
put her timid hand upon his shoulder, and cried 
silently, as she tried to find words with which 
she could console him, and still be loyal to her 
faithful affection for that wretched girl. He 
remembered, too, how fiercely he had answered 
her, like a passionate young cub as he was ; 
telling her to leave him alone, and let him fight 
it out with himself and the devil, for he had 
had enough of women. She had not been 
offended, good little Miss Clarissa, though she 
had been dreadfully shocked and troubled. 
She had cried more than ever, and patted his 
sleeve, and begged him to think of his dear 
mother, and forgive — forgive ; ending by sob- 
bing into her dainty handkerchief. 

So, when he entered the pretty parlor, and 
saw this kind friend standing near Georgie, a 
trifle tremulous and agitated at the sudden sight 
of him, everything but his memory of what a 
true, generous little soul she was, slipped out of 
his mind, and he actually blushed with pleasure. 

My dear Miss Clarissa ! ” he said ; and, with 


Miss Crespigny. 119 

a sudden frank boyishness, such as Georgie had 
never seen him give way to before, he put one 
strong young arm about her, and kissed her 
withered cheek twice. 

My dear boy ! '' said Miss Clarissa. A mo- 
ment before she had been on the verge of mak- 
ing him her best bow, and calling him Mr. 
Anstruthers.'' ‘‘ How pleasant it is to see 
you ! How pleasant it is ! 

The brightest of sweet smiles dimpled Miss 
Georgie's mouth. How good, and honest, and 
unaffected he was, after all ! How kind at 
heart! How she wished that Lisbeth could 
have seen him just then ! Indeed, she found 
it necessary to hold herself very bravely in 
check for a moment or so, for fear she should 
be tempted to give way to any weak impulse 
of feeling ; he seemed so worthy to be admired 
and loved. 

But Lisbeth was not in the house. No one 
knew where she was, exactly. Lately she had 
indulged in the habit of taking even longer 
walks than Georgie’s, and often lonely ones. 
Sometimes, in the morning, or afternoon, they 
would miss her for an hour or so, and she would 
come back rather fagged, and well blown about, 
and at such times it always appeared that she 
had been for a walk. 


120 


Miss Crespigny, 


^^For the good of my health/' she once said 
to Georgie. I find it benefits me, physical- 
ly and morally. Pen'yllan is a queer place, 
and is productive of queer effects upon peo- 
ple." 

Among other things, Georgie discovered that 
she, too, sometimes talked to the children who 
played upon the sands, and that she had her 
favorites, to whom she had once or twice even 
condescended to tell certain tales of fairies and 
mermaids. When Georgie mentioned this 
discovery, she laughed and colored, as if half 
ashamed of herself, and explained the matter 
in her usual style. 

The fact is," she said, I do it as a sort of 
penance. When I was a girl, and lived here, 
the children were afraid of me, and it was no 
wonder. I used to concoct horrible eerie tales 
about the devil-fish, to frighten them, and I 
rather enjoyed my reputation as a sort of hob- 
goblin creature, who had an uncanny knowledge 
of the terrors of the sea. Some of them used 
to delight me by screaming, and running away, 
when they caught sight of me ; and now I have 
arrived at years of discretion, I feel as if I ought 
to do something to retrieve myself with this 
second generation. Poor little imps! Their 
lives are not too easy." 


Miss Crespigny. 12 1 

She was away, indulging in one of these 
walks, this afternoon. 

We could find her somewhere on the shore, 
I know,’’ said Georgie, in answer to Miss Tre- 
garthyn’s inquiry. She is fond of the shore, 
and always goes therefor her strolls. If Hector 
is equal to a sea-breeze, and a mile or so of 
sand, after his journey, he might even go in 
search of her. 

And it having been proved satisfactorily that 
Hector was not only equal to such exertion,- 
but anxious to enjoy it ; after an hour’s chat 
with Miss Millicent, and Miss Clarissa, and 
Miss Hetty, Georgie ran up stairs for her hat, 
and returning to the parlor, took charge of the 
expedition. 

It really seemed one of the peculiarities of 
Pen’yllan to be on its good behavior at oppor- 
tune times. 

It is bluer than ever, to-day,” said> Georgie, 
nodding at her friend, the sea, as they strolled 
toward it. ‘‘And the crests of the little waves 
are whiter, and the sea-gulls are in a better 
temper than they usually are, and more satisfied 
with their lot.” 

She had never looked brighter or more at- 
tractive herself, and this was her companion’s 
mental comment. The many resplendent 


122 Miss Crespigny, 

young swains who admired Miss Georgia Es- 
mond, as she appeared in London ball-rooms, 
would surely have become more hopelessly 
enamored than ever, had they seen her with 
the Pen'yllan roses on her cheeks, and the 
sparkle of the sun-lit sea in her eyes. 

‘‘Where is there another creature like her?'' 
said Hector Anstruthers to himself. “ Where 
is there another creature as fresh, as good, as 
natural and unspotted ? " 


Miss Crespigny. 


123 


CHAPTER XIIL 

A GHOST. 

He had thought of her very often of late, and 
indeed had been quite eager to make his visit 
to Pen'yllan, for no other reason, he told him- 
self, than because he should see her there, and 
hear her sweet young voice again. And now 
he had come, and she had welcomed him, and 
they were walking over the sands, side by side. 
And yet — and yet — Was it possible that he 
felt restless and dissatisfied with his own emo- 
tions? Was it possible that the rapture he 
had tried to imagine, in London, was not so 
rapturous here, in Pen'yllan ? Could it be that, 
after all, he was still only admiring her affec- 
tionately, in a brotherly way, as he had always 
done — admiring and reverencing her, gently, 
as the dearest, prettiest, truest girl he had ever 
known ? Long ago, when, at the time of that 
old folly, he remembered a certain tremulous 
bliss he had experienced when he had been per- 
mitted to spend an hour with the beloved ob- 
ject, he remembered the absolute pangs of joy 
with which one glance from certain great. 


124 


Miss Crespigny, 


cruel, dark eyes had filled him ; he remembered 
how the sound of a girlish voice had possessed 
the power to set every drop of blood in his 
veins beating. He was as calm as ever he had 
been in his life, as he strolled on with Georgie 
Esmond ; he could meet her bright eyes with- 
out even the poor mockery of a tremor. He 
had felt nothing but calm pleasure even when 
he grasped her soft hand in greeting. Would 
it always be thus? Was it best that it should 
be so? Perhaps! And yet, in the depths of 
his heart lay a strange yearning for just one 
touch of the old delirium — ^just one pang of the 
old, bitter-sweet pain. 

There ! '' exclaimed Georgie, ending his 
reverie for him. There she is, standing on 
the rocks. Don't you see that dark-blue rib- 
bon, fluttering?" 

It was curious enough that his heart should 
give such a startled bound, when his eyes fell 
upon the place to which Georgie directed his 
attention. But, then again, perhaps, it was no 
wonder, considering how familiar the scene be- 
fore him was. Years ago he had been wont to 
come to this very spot, and find a slight figure 
standing in that very nook of rocks ; a slight 
girl's figure, clad in a close-fitting suit of sailor- 
blue, a cloud of blown-about hair falling to the 


Miss Crespigny, 


125 


waist, and dark-blue ribbons fluttering from a 
rough-and-ready little sailor-hat of straw. And 
there was the very figure, and the very accom- 
paniments ; the dress, the abundant tossed- 
about hair, the fluttering ribbon, the sea, the 
sky, the shore. He was so silent, for a mo- 
ment, that Georgie spoke to him again, after a 
quick glance at his changed expression. 

Don't you see that it is Lisbeth?" she said, 
laughing. She is very quiet, but she is alive, 
nevertheless. We shall reach her in a minute. 
She is watching the gulls, I think. I thought 
we should find her here. This is our favorite 
resting-place." 

Lisbeth was evidently either watching some- 
thing, or in a very thoughtful mood. She did 
not move, or even appear to be conscious of 
any approaching presence, until Georgie called 
to her, Lisbeth ! Lisbeth ! " and then she 
looked round with a start. 

What ! " she said. ‘‘ Is it you two ? How 
you startled me ! You came like ghosts! And 
Mr. Anstruthers," glancing at Hector, ‘Hooks 
like one. He is so pale ! " 

“ I have seen a ghost," was his reply. 

“ I am glad to hear it," said Lisbeth, coolly. 
“ Ghosts make a place interesting." 

She is so like herself, so self-possessed, and 


126 


Miss Crespigny. 


wholly Lisbeth-like, that she wakens him com- 
pletely from the sort of stupor into which he 
had for a moment fallen. She holds out her 
hand for him to shake, and favors him with an 
unmoved, not too enthusiastic smile. She is 
polite and reasonably hospitable in her greet- 
ing, but she does not seem to be overwhelmed 
with the power of her emotions. 

Sit down,'' she says, and let us rest a 
while. We have plenty of time to reach home 
before dinner ; and if we hadn’t, it would not 
matter much. My aunts are used to being 
kept waiting. They are too amiable to be iron- 
hearted about rules." 

So they sit down, and then, despite the 
reality of her manner, Anstruthers finds him- 
self in a dream again. As Lisbeth talks, her 
voice carries him back to the past. Uncon- 
sciously she has fallen into an attitude which is 
as familiar as all the rest , her hands folded on 
her knees, her face turned seaward. The scent 
of the sea is in the air ; the sound of its mur- 
murs in his ears. The color on the usually 
clear, pale cheek is the color he used to admire 
with such lover-like extravagance — a pure pink 
tint, bright and rare. She seems to have gone 
back to her seventeen years, and he has gone 
back with her. 


Miss Crespigny. 


127 


When at last they rise to return, he is wan- 
dering in this dream still, and he is very silent 
as they walk home. As they enter the garden 
gate, they see Miss Clarissa standing at the 
window, watching for them, just as she had 
used to do, to Lisbeth’s frequent irritation, in 
the olden days. And Lisbeth, pausing at the 
gate, gathered a large red rose. 

The roses are in bloom,'' she says, just as 
they were when I went away with Mrs. Des- 
pard. I could almost persuade myself that I 
had never been away at all." 

That velvet-leaved red rose was placed care- 
lessly in her hair, when she came down stairs, 
after dressing for dinner, and its heavy fra- 
grance floated about her. She wore one of her 
prettiest dresses, looked her best, and was in 
a good humor ; and accordingly the Misses 
Tregarthyn were restored to perfect peace of 
mind, and rendered happy. It was plain, they 
thought, that Miss Esmond had been right, 
and there was no need for fear. How the 
spinster trio enjoyed themselves that evening, 
to be sure ! 

‘‘You used to sing some very pretty songs 
for us, my love," said Miss Clarissa. “ I won- 
der if you remember the one Hector was so 
fond of? Something very sweet, about drink- 


128 


Miss Crespigny, 


ing to somebody with your eyes, and he would 
not ask for wine. I really forget the rest.’' 

Lisbeth, who was turning over a pile of her 
old music, looked up at Anstruthers with a 
civil, wicked smile. 

Did I sing, ‘ Drink to me only ’ ? ” she said. 
‘‘ And was it' a favorite of yours? I wonder if 
it is here? How nice that Aunt Clarissa should 
remind us of it ! ” 

She drew out the yellow old sheet from un- 
der the rest of the music in a minute more, her 
smile not without a touch of venomous amuse- 
ment. How she had loathed it a few years 
ago! 

wonder if I could sing it,” she said; and, 
prompted by some daring demon, she sat down 
at the piano, and sang it from beginning to 
end. But, by the time she had struck the last 
chord, her mood changed. She got up, with a 
little frown, and she did not look at Anstruthers 
at all. 

Bah ! ” she said. What nonsense it is ! ” 
And she pushed the poor, old, faded sheet im- 
patiently aside. 

Anstruthers moved a step forward, and laid 
his hand upon it. 

Will you give it to me ?” he asked, with a 
suppressed force in his manner, quite new. 


129 


Miss Crespigny, 

“Why?"’ she demanded, indifferently. 

For a whim’s sake,” he answered. There 
is no accounting for tastes. Perhaps I may 
fancy that I should like to learn it.” 

She raised her eyebrows, and gave her shoul- 
ders a puzzled little shrug. 

‘^You are welcome to it,” she commented. 

It is not an article of value.” 

Thanks,” rather sardonically ; and he folded 
the sheet, and slipped it into his pocket. 

Their life at Pen’yllan was scarcely exciting ; 
but notwithstanding this, they found it by no 
means unenjoy able, even now, when the first 
week or so had accustomed them to it. They 
took long stretches of walks ; they sunned 
themselves on the sands ; they sailed, and 
rowed, and read, and studied each other in 
secret. Georgie, who studied Lisbeth and An- 
struthers by turns, found that she made more 
progress with the latter than the former. Lis- 
beth, never easy to read, was even more incom- 
prehensible than usual. She shared all their 
amusements, and was prolific in plans to add 
to them, but her manner toward her ex-adorer 
was merely reasonably civil and hospitable, 
and certainly did not encourage comment. To 
her friend it was a manner simply inscrutable. 

Can she care at all ? ” wondered Georgie. 

9 


130 


Miss Crespigny, 


She does not look as if she had ever been 
sorry in her life ; and yet she cried that day.’' 

With Anstruthers it was different. He could 
not pursue the even tenor of his way without 
feeling sometimes a sting. At first he con- 
trolled himself pretty well, and held his own 
against circumstances, even almost calmly. 
Then the stings came only at rare intervals, 
but afterward he experienced them more fre- 
quently. He was not so callous, after all, and 
he found it more difficult to conceal his rest- 
lessness when some old memory rushed upon 
him with sudden force. Such memories began 
to bring bitter, rebellious moods with them, 
and once or twice such moods revealed them- 
selves in bitter speeches. Sometimes he was 
silent, and half gloomy, sometimes recklessly 
gay. But at all times he held to Georgie as 
his safeguard. Whatever his mood might be, 
he drew comfort from her presence. She gave 
him a sense of security. That kind little hand 
of hers held him back from many an indiscre- 
tion. Surely, the day was drawing near when 
he could open his heart to her, and ask her to 
let the kind young hand be his safeguard for- 
ever. He was sorely tempted many a day, 
but somehow it always ended in '‘Not yet! 
Not quite yet!” But his tender admiration 


Miss Crespigny, 


131 

for her showed itself so undisguisedly, in every 
action, that the Misses Tregarthyn looked on 
delighted. 

I am sure that there is an understanding 
between them,'’ observed Miss Millicent. 

Miss Hetty shook her head in a comfortable, 
approving fashion. 

Ah, yes, indeed ! ” she said. One can 
easily see that. What do you think, my 
dear ? ” This was to Lisbeth, who was sitting 
reading. 

Lisbeth shut her book suddenly, and getting 
up, came to the window. 

What is it you are saying? ” she demanded, 
in the manner of one who had just awakened 
from a sleep, or a drowsy reverie. I don’t 
think I heard you.” 

‘‘We were speaking,” said Miss Millicent, 
“ of our young friends in the garden. Sister 
Hetty thinks, with me, that Hector is very 
fond of Miss Esmond.” 


132 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN VERY SWEET. 

Lisbeth looked out into the garden, where 
the two stood together, Georgie blushing and 
smiling, as fresh and flower-like herself as any 
of Miss Clarissa's many blossoms. Hector talk- 
ing to her eagerly, his eyes full of pleasure in 
her beauty and youth. 

‘‘Fond of her?" she said, abstractedly. 
“ Who is not fond of her ? " 

“ But," suggested Miss Hetty, “we mean 
fond of her in — in a different way." 

She had laid her hand on Lisbeth's shoulder, 
and, as she spoke, she thought she felt a slight 
start ; but the girl's voice was steady enough 
when she spoke the next minute. 

“ Oh ! " she said, laughing a little, “ you 
mean that he is in love with her. I have no 
doubt you are right, though — though I had 
scarcely thought of that. Men are always in 
love with somebody; and if he is in love with 
Georgie, it does him great credit. I did not 
think he had the good taste." 

But the fact was, that the idea was some- 


Miss Crespigny, 


133 


thing like a new light dawning upon her. Actu- 
ally she had been so blind as not to think of 
this. And it had been before her eyes day 
after day ! 

You have been an idiot/' was her uncere- 
monious mental comment upon her own stu- 
pidity. You have thought so much of your- 
self, that you have seen nothing. It is Hector 
Anstruthers who has touched her heart. She 
doubted either herself, or him, when she was 
* not so happy.' And this is the end of it — 
the end of it. Good ! " 

Perhaps she was relieved, and felt more com- 
fortable, for she had never been more amusing 
and full of spirit than she had appeared when 
she joined the couple in the garden. 

The twilight had been falling when she left 
the house ; and when the soft dusk came on, 
they still loitered in the garden. The air was 
warm and balmy. Miss Clarissa's flower beds 
breathed forth perfume ; the murmur of the 
waves upon the beach crept up to them ; the 
moon rose in the sky, solemn, watchful, and 
silver-clear. 

Who would care to go back to earth, and 
parlors ? " said Georgie. This is Arcadia — 
silent, odorous, and sweet. Let us stay, Lis- 
beth." 


134 


Miss Crespigny. 


So they sauntered here and there until they 
were tired, and then they found a resting-place, 
under a laburnum tree ; and Anstruthers, fling- 
ing himself upon the grass, lay at full length, 
his hands clasped under his head, watching 
Lisbeth, in newly stirred bitterness and dis- 
content. 

Discontent ? Ah ! what discontent it was 
What bitterness ! To-night it reached its 
climax. Was he a man, indeed, or had he 
gone back to boyhood, and to that old folly 
upon which his youth had been wrecked ? 
Moonlight was very becoming to Lisbeth. It 
gave her colorless face the white of a lily leaf, 
and her great eyes a new depth and shadow. 
She looked her best, just now, as she had a 
habit of looking her best, at all inopportune 
and dangerous times. 

Georgie, leaning, in a luxury of quiet dream- 
ing, against the trunk of the laburnum, broke 
in upon his mental plaints, by speaking to her 
friend. 

Sing, Lisbeth,’' she said. ‘^You look as if 
you were in a singing mood.” 

Lisbeth smiled, a faint smile not unlike 
moonlight. She was in a singing mood, but 
she was in a fantastic, half-melancholy mood, 
too. Perhaps this was why she chose a rather 


Miss Crespigny, 


135 


melancholy song. She folded her hands upon 
her knees, in that favorite fashion of hers, the 
fashion Anstruthers remembered so well, and 
began ; 

All that I had to give I gave — 

Good-by ! 

Yet Love lies silent in the grave, 

And that I lose, which most I crave, 

Good-by ! Good-by ! Good-by ! 

Nay ! turn your burning eyes away ! 

Good-by ! 

It comes to this — this bitter day. 

That you and I can only say, 

Good-by ! Good-by ! Good-by ! 

The rest lies buried with the past ! 

Good-by ! 

The golden days, that sped so fast. 

The golden days, too bright to last ; 

Good-by ! Good-by I Good-by ! 

The fairest rose blooms but a day. 

Good-by ! 

The fairest Spring must end with May, 

And you and I can only say, 

Good-by ! Good-by ! Good-by ! ” 

‘‘Ah, Lisbeth ! cried Georgia, when she 
stopped. “ What a sad thing ! I never heard 
you sing it before.’' 

“ No,” answered Lisbeth. “ I don’t think 


136 


Miss Crespigny, 


anybody ever heard me sing it before. It is 
an imitation of a little German song I have 
heard, or read, somewhere. I can’t remember 
where, indeed. I can remember nothing but 
that the refrain of ‘ Good-by ’ haunted me ; 
and the words I have just sung grew out of 
it.” 

Anstruthers said nothing. He had watched 
her face, as she sung, and had almost lost con- 
trol over himself, as he was often on the verge 
of doing lately. What a consummate actress 
the girl was ! The mournful little song had 
fallen from lips as sweetly and sadly as if 
both words and music welled from a tender, 
tried, soft heart. An innocent girl of sixteen 
might have sung just such a song, in just such 
a voice, if she had lost her lover. Once he had 
been amazed by the fancy that the large, mel- 
low, dark eyes were full of tears. 

He had been quiet enough before, but after 
the song was ended, he did not utter a word, 
but lay silent upon the grass until their return 
to the house. 

Georgie rose first, and then Lisbeth and 
himself. But Georgie, going on before them, 
left them a moment together, and as they 
crossed the lawn, Lisbeth paused, and bending 
over a bed of lilies to gather a closed white 


Miss Crespigny, 137 

bud, sang, in a low tone, as if unconsciously, 
the last verse. 

The fairest rose blooms but a day. 

Good-by ! 

The fairest Spring must end with May, 

And you and I can only say. 

Good-by ! Good-by ! Good-by ! 

When she stood upright, she found herself 
confronting a face so pale and agitated, that 
she drew back a little. 

‘‘ I wish to God,'' he broke out, I wish to 
God that you were a better woman ! " 

She looked up at him for a second, with a 
smile, cold, and strange, and bitter. 

I wish to God I was ! " she said, and, with- 
out another word, turned from him and walked 
away, flinging her closed lilies upon the dewy 
grass. 

When, the next day, at noon, they strolled 
out upon the lawn, the lilies were lying there, 
their waxen petals browning and withering in 
the hot sun. Georgie stooped, and picked one 
up. 

What a pity ! " she said. They would 
have been so pretty to-day. I wonder who 
gathered them." 

Lisbeth regarded the poor little brown bud 
with a queer smile. 


138 Miss Crespigny, 

I gathered them,” she said. It does 
seem a pity, too — almost cruel, doesn’t it ? But 
that is always the way with people. They 
gather their buds first, and sympathize with 
them afterward.” Then she held out her hand. 

Give it to me,” she said ; and when Georgie 
handed the wilted thing to her, she took it, still 
half smiling in that queer way. ‘‘Yes,” she 
commented. “ It might have been very sweet 
to-day. It was useless cruelty to kill it so early. 
It will never be a flower now. You see, Geor- 
gie, my dear,” dryly, “ how I pity my bud — 
afterward ! Draw a moral from me, and never 
gather your flowers too soon. They might be 
very sweet to-morrow.” 

She had not often talked in this light, sati- 
rical way of late, but Georgie observed that she 
began to fall into the habit again after this. 
She had odd moods, and was not quite so frank 
as her young admirer liked to see her. And 
something else struck Georgie as peculiar, too. 
She found herself left alone with Hectot much 
oftener. In their walks, and sails, and saun- 
terings in the garden, Lisbeth’s joining them 
became the exception, instead of the rule, as 
it had been heretofore. It seemed always by 
chance that she failed to accompany them, but 
it came to the same thing in the end. 


Miss Crespigny, 


139 


Georgie pondered over the matter in private, 
with much anxiety. She really began to feel 
as if something strange had happened. Had 
^there been a new quarrel? Hector was more 
fitful and moody than ever. Sometimes he 
looked so miserable and pale, that she was a 
little frightened. When he talked, he was bitter ; 
and when he was silent, his silence was tragi- 
cal. But he was as fond of her as ever he had 
been. Nay, he even seemed fonder of her, and 
more anxious to be near her, at all times. 

I am not a very amusing companion, 
Georgie, my dear,'' he would say, ‘‘but you 
will bear with me, I know. You are my hope 
and safeguard, Georgie. If you would not bear 
with me, who would ? " 

She often wondered at his way of speaking 
of her, as his safeguard. Indeed, he not only 
called her his safeguard, but showed, by his 
manner, that he flew to her as a sort of refuge. 
Once, when they had been sitting together in 
silence; for some time, he suddenly seized her 
hand, and kissed it passionately and despe- 
rately. 

“ Georgie," he said, “ if I were to come to 
you some day and ask you to save me from a 
great danger, would you try to do as I asked 
you?" 


140 


Miss Crespigny, 


She did not draw her hand away, but let it 
rest in his, as she answered him, with a quiet, 
half-sad smile : 

“ I would not refuse to try to help any one 
in the world, who was in danger — even a per- 
son I was not fond of,'' she said. And you 
know we have been friends all our lives. Hec- 
tor." 

But if I were to ask a great gift of you," he 
persisted, a great gift, of which I was not wor- 
thy, but which was the only thing that could 
save me from ruin ? " 

You must ask me first," she said, and then, 
though it was done very gently, she did take 
her hand away. ^ 


Miss Crespigny. 


141 


CHAPTER XV. 

WE WON’T GO YET. 

Having coolly laid her plans for leaving the 
two to enjoy themselves, Lisbeth retired upon 
her laurels, with the intention of finding amuse- 
ments of her own. She had entertained her- 
self before, easily enough, why not again ? 
Naturally, as they had fallen in love with each 
other, they would not want her; even Georgie 
would not want her. And it was quite natural 
that they should have fallen in love. They 
were the sort of people to do it. And Georgie 
would make a charming wife, and, if her hus- 
band proved a tyrant, would still go down upon 
her knees and adore him, and thank Heaven 
for her prince's affection, and his perfections, 
to the end of her innocent days. As for her- 
self, it was no business of hers, when she had 
done her duty toward her friend. The best 
thing she could do, would be to leave them 
alone, and she left them alone, and gave them 
every opportunity to be lover-like, if they had 
chosen. 

But one day. Miss Clarissa, looking up from 


142 


Miss Crespigny, 


her sewing, started, quite nervously, at the sud- 
den impression made upon her of something 
new in her dear Lisbeth’s appearance. 

My dear Lisbeth ! she exclaimed, how 
pale and ill you look ! '' 

I am always pale,” said Lisbeth. 

^‘But, my love,” protested Miss Clarissa, 
‘‘you are pale, to-day, in a different way. You 
must be suffering. Dear! dear! How careless 
in us not to have remarked it before ! I almost 
believe — nay, indeed, I am sure — that you look 
thin, actually thin ! ” 

“ I am always thin,” said Lisbeth. 

But Miss Clarissa was not to be consoled by 
any such coolness of manner. When she looked 
again more closely, she was quite sure that she 
was right, that her dear Lisbeth showed unmis- 
takable signs of being in a dreadful state of 
health. She fell into a positive condition of 
tremor and remorse. She had been neglected ; 
they had been heartlessly careless, not to see 
before that she was not strong. It must be 
attended to at once. And really, if Lisbeth 
had not been very decided, it is not at all un- 
likely that she would have been put to bed, 
and dosed, and wept over by all three spinsters 
at once. 

“ I hope it is not that Pen’yllan does not 


Miss Crespigny, 


143 


agree with you/' faltered Miss Hetty. We 
always thought the air very fresh and bracing, 
but you certainly do not look like yourself, Lis- 
beth." 

And the truth was that she did not look 
like herself. Much as she might protest against 
the assertion, she was thinner and paler than 
usual. 

I am not ill," she said, whether I look ill 
or not. I never was better in my life. I have 
not slept very well of late ; that is all. AndT[ 
must beg you to let me have my own way 
about it. Aunt Clarissa. It is all nonsense. 
Don’t fuss over me, I implore you. You will 
spoil Georgie’s love story for her, and make 
Mr. Anstruthers uncomfortable. Men hate 
fuss of any kind. Leave me alone, when they 
are in the house, and I will take all the medi- 
cine you choose to give me in private, though 
it is all nonsense, I assure you." 

But was it nonsense ? Alas ! I must confess, 
though it is with extreme reluctance, that the 
time came when the invincible was beaten, and 
felt that she was. It was not nonsense. 

One afternoon, after sitting at her bedroom 
window for an hour, persuading herself that 
she was reading, while Georgie and Anstruthers 
enjoyed a tite-a4ete in the garden below, she 


144 


Miss Crespigny. 


suddenly closed her book, and, rising from her 
chair, began to dress to go out. 

She was down stairs, and out upon the beach, 
in five minutes ; and, once away from the house, 
she began to walk furiously. She looked neither 
to right nor left, as she went. She was not in 
the humor to have her attention distracted from 
her thoughts by any beauty of sea, or sky, or 
shore. She saw the yellow sand before her, 
and that was all. She reached the old trysting- 
place, among the rocks, before she stopped. 
Once there, she gave herself time to breathe, 
and, standing still, looked back at the ground 
over which she had come. There was a worn- 
out expression in her face, such as the Misses 
Tregarthyn had never yet seen, even when they 
thought her at her worst. And yet, in a min- 
ute more, she smiled with actual grimness. 

I am being punished now,'' she said, aloud. 
‘‘ I am being punished now for everything I 
have ever done in my life. Now I begin to 
understand." 

There was humiliation enough in her soul 
then to have made her grovel in the sand at 
her feet, if she had been prone to heroics or 
drama. Yes, she was beginning to understand. 
It was her turn now. Oh, to have come to 
this ! To have learned this ! 


Miss Crespigny. 


145 


It was characteristic of her nature — an un- 
fortunate nature at this time, passing through 
a new experience, and battling fiercely against 
it — that when, immediately afterward, the tears 
began to fill her eyes, and roll down her cheeks, 
they were the bitter, bitter tears of passionate 
mortification and anger. She could almost 
have killed herself, for very self-contempt and 
shame. ^ 

What reason is there in it ? she said. 
‘‘None. What has brought me to it? No- 
thing. Is he as worthy now as he was then ? 
No ! Isn’t it sheer madness? Yes, it is.” 

She spoke truly, too. There was no reason 
in it. It was madness. He had done nothing 
to touch her heart, had made no effort to 
reach it. And yet he had reached and touched 
it. It would not have been like her to love a 
man because he was good, because he had 
made love to her ; indeed, because of anything. 
Her actions were generally without any cause 
but her own peremptory fancies ; and here, 
some strange, sudden caprice of emotion had 
been too much for her. How she had suffered 
since she discovered her weakness, no one but 
herself would ever know. She had writhed 
under it, burned under it, loathed it, and yet 
been conquered by it. Almost every blade of 
10 


146 


Miss Crespigny, 


Pen’yllan grass reminded her of some wrong 
she had done to the kindly, impetuous young 
fellow, who had loved her in the past. Almost 
every grain of Pen’yllan sand taunted her with 
some wanton selfishness, or cruelty, which must 
be remembered by the man who could have 
nothing but dislike for her in the present. 

I should be grateful now,’^ she cried, bit- 
terly. Yes! Grateful for a tithe of what I 
once had under foot. This is eating dirt with 
a vengeance.'' 

She might well frighten Miss Clarissa with 
her pallor and wretched looks. The intensity 
of her misery and humiliation was wearing her 
out, and robbing her of sleep and appetite. 
She wanted to leave Pen'yllan, but how could 
she suggest it? Georgie was so happy, she 
told herself, with a vindictive pleasure in her 
pain, that it would be a pity to disturb her. 

She walked up and down the beach for half 
an hour before she returned home ; and when 
she went her way, she was so tired as to be 
fairly exhausted. At the side door, by which 
she entered the house, she met Georgie, who 
held an open letter in her hand. 

Whom from ? " asked Lisbeth, for lack of 
something to say. 

Mamma," was the girl's answer. ^^She 


Miss Crespigny. 147 

wonders when we are going home ; but I am 

enjoying Pen'yllan so much '' 

She paused, and blushed. Just lately it had 
occurred to her that it might be possible that 
Lisbeth misunderstood her relation to Hector, 
and something in Lisbeth’s face made her stop 
and blush in this opportune manner. 

The weather is so lovely,’' she ended, that 
I don’t think I want to go yet.” 

Lisbeth smiled, but her smile was an ab- 
stracted sort of affair. 

No,” she said. We won’t go yet. Pen’yllan 
is doing both of us good ; and it is doing Mr. 
Anstruthers good, too. We won’t go yet. Tell 
Mrs. Esmond so, Georgie.” 

And then she carried her absent smile up 
stairs. 


148 


Miss Crespigny, 


CHAPTER XVI. 

YES — TO LISBETH. 

Georgie stood still, and looked after her. 
She blushed more deeply than ever. A queer 
distress and discomfort came upon her, and 
filled her mind. She had only wondered, be- 
fore, if it was possible that Lisbeth did not 
know, did not wholly understand ; but now the 
truth revealed itself in an uncomfortable flash 
of recognition. 

Oh ! she exclaimed, under her breath. 
“ She does not see. She thinks — I am sure she 
thinks — But she did not put the rest into 
words. 

Pen’yllan, and the lovely weather, quite lost 
their charm for the moment. As she walked 
slowly down the hall, toward the parlor, hold- 
ing her mother's letter in her hand, she would 
almost have been glad to run away. She re- 
membered so many little peculiarities she had 
noticed in Lisbeth's manner, of late. She had 
managed to leave her alone with Hector so 
often ; she had taken so many of those long 
walks by herself ; she had not looked well ; she 


Miss Crespigny. 


149 


had sometimes been abstracted and restless. 
The girl’s heart quite fluttered at the thought 
which all these things forced upon her. She 
was afraid to indulge in such a fancy. That 
day, when her confession had been made upon 
the beach, Lisbeth had confessed that she was 
sorry for her past cruelty. Could it be that 
her remorse had developed into a stronger 
feeling? Could it be that she was more than 
sorry now ? That she was beginning to value 
the love she had thrown away, even to long 
for it ? As I have said, the thought frightened 
Georgie a little. She had seen so much to 
admire in Hector Anstruthers, that she had 
often wondered, innocently, how it was possible 
that Lisbeth could have resisted his numerous 
charms and perfections. How, indeed, could 
any woman whom he loved be so hard to please 
as not to appreciate him ? She, herself, had 
appreciated him, she told herself, blushing, 
even though he had not loved her at all as he 
had loved Lisbeth. And yet she felt now as 
if it would be almost dreadful to think that 
Lisbeth, cool, self-controlled Lisbeth, had given 
way, in spite of her coolness and self-control. 
And then, if this was the true state of affairs, 
how much more dreadful it became to feel that 
she was misunderstood ; that Lisbeth saw in 


Miss Crespigyty, 


150 

her a rival. Something must be done, it was 
plain, but it was a difficult matter to decide 
what the something should be. Ah ! if it had 
only been a matter she could have talked over 
with mamma, who knew everything, and could 
always advise her. But it was Lisbeth's secret 
— Lisbeth’s and Hector's ; and so she must be 
loyal to her trust. 

She was quite sad, in the midst of her laby- 
rinth, all the afternoon ; so sad, that when An- 
struthers came in from the village, to partake 
of Miss Clarissa's tea, he marked the change 
in her at once. But he was in a gloomy mood 
himself ; so it is not to be wondered at that 
the small party around the table was not near- 
ly so gay as usual. Lisbeth had a headache. 
Her eyes were heavy, and she said but little, 
and disappeared as soon as the meal was at an 
end. 

Georgie would have followed her at once, 
but in the hall Hector stopped her. 

‘‘ Come into the garden, Georgie," he said ; 

I have something to say to you." 

‘‘Very well," said Georgie, “as soon as I 
have asked Lisbeth to come, too." 

“ But," he returned, “ I do not want Lis- 
beth. What I have to say I must say to you, 
not Lisbeth." 


Miss Crespigny, 


151 

Georgie had been standing with one foot on 
the lowest stair, and her hand on the balus- 
trades, but a tone in his voice made her turn 
round, and look up questioningly. He was 
pale and haggard. She saw in an instant that 
he was not quite himself. A little pain shot 
through her tender heart. How unhappy he 
looked ! 

‘‘ You are very pale. Hector,’' she said, pity- 
ingly. 

He tried to smile, but it was a constrained 
effort. 

I suppose I am nervous,” he answered. 
Be good to me, Georgie, my dear.” And he 
held out his hand to her. Come,” he said, 
Lisbeth does not care for our society much. 
She always avoids us when she can.” 

Georgie’s face fell. Had he seen it, too ? 

Then surely it must be true that Lisbeth did 
avoid them. 

She was so full of her trouble about Lisbeth, 
that it scarcely occurred to her mind that he 
had made a very simple request, in an unusual 
way. She did not even ask herself what he 
could be going to say, that he would not say 
before Lisbeth. 

But she became more conscious of the 
strangeness of his niood every rnornent. He 


152 


Miss Crespigny, 


hardly spoke half a dozen more words, until 
they reached their usual seat, under the la- 
burnum. There, when she sat down, he flung 
himself upon the grass, at her side, in his 
favorite unceremonious fashion ; but for a 
minute or so, he did not even look at her. 
She had never thought him boyish before, 
but just then the thought entered her mind, 
that he was very boyish indeed, and she 
began to pity and wonder at him more and 
more. 

Suddenly he turned toward her and spoke. 

Georgie, my dear,'' he said, his voice quite 
trembling, I am going to ask you for that 
great gift, of which I am so unworthy." 

What need that he should say another word ? 
She knew quite well, then, what he meant, and 
why it was that he had not wanted Lisbeth. 
And, ready as she usually was with her blushes, 
she did not blush at all. She even lost all her 
bright color at once, and confronted him with 
a face quite pale and altered. 

‘‘You may go on. Hector," she said; “I 
will listen." 

So he broke out hurriedly and desperately, 
and poured forth his appeal. 

“ I don’t know how I dare ask so much," he 
said. “ I don't know how I dare speak a.t all. 


Miss Crespigny. 


IS3 


You do not understand what my life has been. 
God forbid that you should ! But what is left 
of it is not worthy of you, Georgie — the sweet- 
est, purest woman that God ever made. And 
yet I think it is because I honor you so much, 
that I dare to throw myself on your mercy. I 
want to be a better man, my dear, and — and — 
will you help me? You see what I am asking 
you for, Georgie ? And he bent his pale face 
over her hand, kissing it as some sad penitent 
might kiss a saint’s. 

A strange love-making, indeed ! The girl 
gave a little sob. Yes, actuallyv,^a little sob. 
But she let him hold her hand, just as she had 
let him hold it, that day before. She had put 
her budding love aside, and outlived it bravely ; 
but there was a pang in this, nevertheless, and 
she could not help but feel it. It would be 
over in a moment, but it stung sharply, for the 
instant. 

^^Yes, Hector, I see,” she answered, almost 
directly. ‘^You are asking me if I will marry 
you.” 

Yes, my dear.” And he kissed her hand 
again. 

Then there was a silence, for a little while ; 
and he waited, wondering and feeling, God 
knows what strange hope, or fear, at heart. At 


154 


Miss Crespigny, 


length, however, another fair, small hand was 
laid softly on his, causing him to glance up, 
questioningly. 

‘‘ Is that the answer?” he ventured, with a 
new throb of the heart. 

But she shook her head, smiling a sweet, 
half-sad smile. 

It is not that answer,” she said, but it is 
an answer in its way. It means that I am go- 
ing to speak to you, from my heart.” 

I think you always do that,” he said, un- 
steadily. 

Yes, always ; but now, more than ever, I 
must be very true to you, indeed, to-day, be- 
cause — because you have made a mistake. 
Hector.” 

A mistake ! Then it is not the first.” 

But what a craven he felt at soul ! How 
hard it was to meet her clear, bright eyes ! 

‘^You have made a mistake,” she went on. 

Oh, if I was not true to you, and to myself 
as well, your whole .life might be a mistake 
from this hour, and everything might go wrong. 
You fancy that, because you can admire and 
trust me, that you could learn to love me, too, 
in that best way, as you do not now, when I 
was your wife. But you could not, however 
hard you might try, and however hard I might 


Miss Crespigny. 


155 


try, too ; you could not. You could only teach 
yourself a poor imitation of that best way, and 
you would be unsatisfied at heart. Hector; and 
so should I. Husbands and wives ought to have 
that best kind of love, and nothing else, be- 
cause nothing else will fill its place — the place 
in their hearts that God made to be filled by 
it. Because you are honest and true to me,'' 
with a warm grasp of the small hand, though 
warm tears were in her eyes, ‘^you do not 
say that you have that kind of love to of- 
fer me, and I know you have not. I think 
that, perhaps, you could not give it to me, 
even if — don’t be angry. Hector, because I 
could not help seeing it — you had not given 
it, almost in spite of yourself, to some one 
else ” 

‘‘ To some one else ! ” he exclaimed. 

‘‘Yes," she said, sorrowfully, “to Lisbeth." 

He drew his hands away, and covered his 
face with them, with something like a groan of 
despair. 

“ I am answered," he said. “ Don’t say any- 
thing more, Georgie. That is enough." 

“ Don't misunderstand me," cried the girl. 
“You could not help it. How could you? 
The old love never died out, really. And now, 
when you see her so much better, and more 


156 


Miss Crespigny. 


beautiful, how could it be otherwise than that 
it should spring into new life, and be stronger 
than ever? It is Lisbeth you love. Hector, 
and she is worthy of your love — of anybody's 
love, if you would only understand her rightly. 
Is it pride that holds you back from showing 
your heart to her, or is it because, even though 
you love her, you have not forgiven her for 
your old misery? Tell me." 

Do I love her," he asked, or hate her ? " 

‘‘You love her," answered Georgie. 

“And yet," he said, gloomily, “ I have asked 
you to marry me, and you have answered me, 
as gently as an angel might have done." 

“ It was only that you made a mistake," said 
the girl. 

“A mistake!" he echoed. ‘‘Ay, it was a 
mistake! And, as I said, it is not the first I 
have made. My life has been full of blun- 
ders." 

“ Oh ! " said Georgie, “ how I wish I was wise 
enough to know how to set them right. If you 
would only trust me and let me try." 

He gave her a mournful smile. 

“ I thought there was a way," he said, “ but 
you did not agree with me." 

“ I knew better," shaking her head, and 
coloring. “And perhaps I was too proud 


Miss Crespigny, 


157 


and jealous. I am not so good as you think me. 
I am very fond of you, but not fond enough 
to take your half-loaf. Let us forget it alto- 
gether.'' 


158 


Miss Crespigny. 


CHAPTER XVIL 

GOOD-BY. 

Surely, so serious a question was never so 
dismissed in so short a time. For these few 
busy moments, the matter was as completely 
disposed of, as if they had spent hours in argu- 
ing it. He scarcely knew how it was that he 
felt so sure that he need say no more ; that the 
brave, simple, pretty Georgie had set his poor, 
weak plans aside so easily, and yet so tenderly. 
Much as he admired and reverenced her, there 
was a depth in her girlish nature which he had 
never sounded. It was all over for him with 
Georgie Esmond, though he need not fear that 
her friendship would ever waver. 

If I was only wise enough to help you,'' she 
repeated ; ‘‘ if you would only trust me, and let 
me try." 

If any one could help me, you could," he 
said, but there is no help for me." 

He had never once admitted to himself that 
this, miserable passion could ever make him 
happy. It had never occurred to his mind 
that its termination would be anything but a 


Miss Crespigny, 


159 


wretched and humiliating one. As Georgie had 
suggested, he loved, but had not forgiven, and 
he told himself that his love was degraded in- 
fatuation. What was there to tie to in such a 
feeling ? Did he trust the woman to whom he 
was in secret a slave? No, he trusted her no 
more to-day than he had done before. But 
she had a hold upon his heart-strings, never- 
theless. The old witchery was exercising its 
full power upon him. It had been so strong, 
at last, that he had been maddened into mak- 
ing this coward's effort to free himself. If 
Georgie would stretch out her hand, she might 
save him a fatal weakness, and so, even while 
he despised himself for his selfish folly, he had 
resolved to throw himself upon Georgie's mer- 
cy. And here was the end of it ! Georgie 
was wiser than himself, clearer of sight, truer of 
soul, stronger, with a brave simplicity ; and she 
had proved to him what a shameful folly it 
was. Georgie would have none of him ; and 
yet how sweet she was, God bless her ! 

I shall leave Pen’yllan, in the morning," 
he said. There is nothing to keep me here 
now, since you do not want me. Say that you 
forgive me, Georgie, and we will bid each other 
good-by, for the present." 

You must not think that I have anything to 


i6o Miss Crespigny. 

forgive/^ she answered ; but I do not say that 
you will be wrong in going. I believe it will be 
best. You do not quite understand yourself 
yet. Go away, and give yourself time to find 
out, whether you can conquer your heart, 
or not. The time will come when you will 
know.'' 

And then ? " somewhat bitterly. 

Something will happen, I think," her sim- 
ple faith in the kindness of Fortune asserting 
itself. I cannot believe that you will always 
be as unhappy as you are now. One of you 
will be sure to do or say something that will 
help the other." 

A sudden color leaped to his face. Her 
words held a suggestion of which he had never 
once thought, and which set his pulses beating 
hard and fast. 

What ? " he exclaimed, his new feeling giv- 
ing him no time to check himself. ‘‘You do* 
not think the time will ever come, when she — 
when she might feel, too " 

“I think," said the girl, in a grave, almost 
reverent voice, “ I think the time has come 
now." 

When they returned to the house, Lisbeth, 
seeing them from the parlor window, made a 
mental comment. 


Miss Crespigny. i6i 

‘‘Judging from his face/' she observed, “I . 
should say that he had asked her to marry him, 
and had been accepted. Judging from hers, I 
should say her answer had been ‘ No.' You are 
not easy to read, for once, Georgie. What does 
it mean ? " 

Georgie came into the house, with a more 
composed look than her face had worn for 
several days. She laid her garden hat upon the 
hall table and walked straight into the parlor 
to her dear Lisbeth. She had a very shrewd 
idea that her dear Lisbeth knew nothing 
of their guest's intended departure, and she 
wanted to be the first to break the news to 
her. It would not matter if any little secrets 
were betrayed to herself. So she went to 
the window, and laid her hand on Lisbeth's 
shoulder. 

“Did Hector tell you that he was going?" 
she asked, as if his having done so would have 
been the most natural thing in the world. 

“That he was going? " repeated Lisbeth. 

Georgie gazed considerately out into the 
garden. 

“Yes. Back to London, you know — to-mor- 
row. I suppose he thinks he has been idle 
long enough." 

Lisbeth shrugged her shoulders. 

II 


Miss Crespigny, 


162 

Rather sudden, isn’t it ? ” she commented. 

I thin'k you have been the first to hear the 
news.” 

Gentlemen always do things suddenly,” re- 
marked Georgie, astutely. 

She had no need to have been so discreet. 
Lisbeth had been very cool under the infor- 
mation. An indifferent observer might have 
easily concluded that she cared very little 
about it; that her interest in Hector Anstru- 
thers’ going and coming was an extremely well- 
controlled feeling. When he came into the 
room himself, a few minutes later, she was 
quite composed enough to touch upon the sub- 
ject with polite regrets. 

‘‘Aunt Clarissa will positively mourn,” she 
ended, with one of her incomprehensible smiles. 
“ She has been almost radiant during your 
visit.” And there her share in the matter 
seemed to terminate. She said nothing when 
the three old ladies, hearing the news, poured 
forth affectionate plaints, from the first course 
at dinner until the last. She listened compos- 
edly, without remark, though once or twice 
she looked at Georgie with rather an interested 
air. It was her turn to feel curious now, and 
she was curious enough. Georgie blushed 
when she was looked at scrutinizingly, but her 


Miss Crespigny. 163 

manner was decidedly not that of a girl who 
had just accepted a lover. 

And/' said Lisbeth, examining her coolly, 

she would not refuse him. She must be fond 
of him ; and if she is fond of him, she is too 
sweet-natured and straightforward to coquet 
with him. And yet — well, it is decidedly puz- 
zling." 

She found the evening rather a bore, upon 
the whole. How was it that it dragged so, in 
spite of her efforts ? She thought it would 
never come to an end. When, with long-suf- 
fering good-nature, Hector drew out the chess- 
table, and challenged the delighted Miss Clarissa 
to a game, her patience fairly gave way. She 
turned to the piano for refuge, and sang song 
after song, until she could sing no more. Then, 
when Georgie took her place, she made a furtive 
exit, and slipped out through the hall and a side 
door into the garden. What made her turn 
her steps toward Miss Clarissa's rose-thicket ? 
She did not know. But she went there. There 
she had bidden her boy -lover good-by, and 
broken his heart ; there she had sung her little 
song to Georgie and Hector. On both occa- 
sions it had been warm, and balmy, and moon- 
light ; and now it was warm, and balmy, and 
moonlight again. She stood and looked through 


164 


Miss Crespigny, 


the trees, catching silvery glimpses of the sea. 
In a minute or so she moved her hand in an 
impatient gesture. 

I am sick of it all,'’ she cried, breaking the 
silence. I am sick of the whole world, and of 
myself more than the rest. How I wish I was 
like Aunt Clarissa." 

She began to wander about restlessly, pulling 
at the roses with no particular object, but be- 
cause she could not keep still. Buds and blos- 
soms, red, and cream, and white, were torn 
from their stems ruthlessly, until her hands 
were full, and then she stopped again, half 
wondering at herself. 

‘‘ What am I thinking of ? " she said. What 
do I want them for ? Poor things ! " remem- 
bering her parable bitterly. They might have 
been very sweet to-morrow." 

She held the cool, fresh things close up to 
her face, breathing in their fragrance eagerly ; 
and when she took them away, their blossoms 
were bright here and there — perhaps with dew; 
certainly with dew, if it was dew that .wet 
her fevered cheeks, and softened her eyes so 
strangely. 

Scarcely three minutes later she turned with 
a start, and then stood listening. Some one 
had left the house, and was coming across the 


Miss Crespigny, 


165 

lawn toward her. She waited a few seconds, 
to make sure that she was not mistaken, and 
then she bent down over a bush, and began 
leisurely to gather more roses, though she was 
overloaded already. 

Where is Georgie ? '' she asked, calmly, of 
the intruder, when he reached her side. 

‘‘Georgie,'' returned a rather constrained 
voice, “ is talking to Miss Hetty. Miss Clarissa 
sent me here to remind you that the dew is 
falling, and that you are not strong enough to 
bear the night air. 

“ Miss Clarissa is very good," Lisbeth an- 
swered. “And so are you. But dear Miss 
Clarissa has been threatening me with an un- 
timely grave, as the result of night air, ever 
since I was six months old ; so, perhaps, I am 
not so grateful as I ought to be. I love dark- 
ness rather than light, upon the whole, and 
don't find that it disagrees with me ; perhaps 
because my deeds are evil." 

“ Perhaps," dryly. 

For fully two minutes, she gathered her flow- 
ers in silence, while Anstruthers waited, and 
looked at her ; but at last she stood upright, 
and their eyes met. 

“ It is a beautiful night," she remarked, sen- 
tentiously. 


i66 


Miss Crespigny, 


‘‘Yes/ 

‘‘We have had a great number of lovely 
nights, lately.’* 

“Yes.” 

She busied herself with her roses for a little 
while, to the exclusion of everything else, and 
then she gave it up. 

“Well,” she said, “suppose we go into the 
house. I can do nothing with them here. The 
fact is, I don’t know why I gathered them, un- 
less it was from an impulse of destructiveness. 
Let us go.” 

“ Stop a moment,” he said ; nay, almost com- 
manded her. 

She paused, not seeming in the least dis- 
turbed, however. She would have cut off her 
right hand, almost, before she would have ex- 
hibited an emotion. 

“ I had a reason of my own for coming 
here,” he went on, “ apart from Miss Cla- 
rissa’s commands. I want to bid you good- 

by.” 

“You must be going,” she commented, 
“very early in the morning.” And yet her 
heart was beating like a trip-hammer. 

“ It is not that,” was his reply, “ though I 
am going early. I had a whim — ^you remem- 
ber my whim about the song — a fancy that I 


Miss Crcspigny, 167 

should like to say my good-by here, where I 
said a good-by once before.” 

It is easily said,” answered Lisbeth, and 
held out one of her hands. Good-by.” 

He took it, with a pretense at a coolness as 
masterly as her own, but he could not keep it 
up. He gave way to some swift, passionate, 
inexplicable prompting, and in an instant had 
covered it with kisses, had even fiercely kissed 
her slender wrist. 

She snatched it from his grasp, breathless 
with anger, forgetting her resolve to control 
herself. 

What do you mean?” she cried. ^‘You 
are mad. How dare you ? ” 

He drew dack a step, confronting her defi- 
antly. 

I do not know what I mean,” he answered, 
unless, as you say, I am mad. I think I am 
mad ; so, being a madman, I will not ask you 
to pardon me. It was a farewell. It is over 
now, however. Will you let me take your 
roses, and carry them to the house?” 

She vouchsafed him no answer, but turned 
away, and left him to follow, if he chose. Her 
helplessness against him drove her fairly wild. 
Nothing she could say, or do, would ever wipe 
out the memory of those mad kisses. He 


Miss Crespigny. 


i68 

either loved or despised her utterly; and re- 
membering his manner toward Georgie, she 
could only conclude that he despised her, and 
had offered her a deadly insult. The blood 
shot into her cheeks, like a rush of fire, and 
her eyes blazed ominously. 

My dear Lisbeth,’' bleated good little Miss 
Clarissa, the moment she saw her, you have 
caught fresh cold, I am convinced. You are 
in a high fever.'' 

Fever, indeed ! She had never been in such 
a fever in her life ; but it was a fever of anger 
and humiliation. 

think it probable," she said, seriously, 
that I am going to have measles, or scarla- 
tina, Aunt Clarissa. Which would you pre- 
fer? " 

Georgie came up stairs, long after she had 
shut herself in her room, to find her sitting 
by the open window, looking worn out and 
wretched. 

Lisbeth," she ventured, is it possible that 
you are going to be ill ? " 

Probably Georgie Esmond had never been so 
spoken to in her life, as she was when her 
dear Lisbeth turned upon her at this simple 
remark. 

‘‘Georgie, my dear," she said, “if you ask 


Miss Crespigny, 169 

me such a question again, I believe I shall turn 
you out of the room, and lock the door.’* 

Georgie regarded her for a moment in mute 
amazement ; but after that she managed to re- 
cover herself. . 

I — I beg pardon, Lisbeth,” she faltered, 
and then discreetly turned her attention to the 
performance of her nightly toilet, preparatory 
to going to bed. 

But in the morning, it was Lisbeth to whose 
share the meekness fell. Her mood had 
changed altogether, and she was so astound- 
ingly humble,- that Georgie was alarmed. 

^^You have more patience with me than I 
have with myself, Georgie,” she said, or I 
should know it was not worth my while to say 
a word to you. Do have pity on me. I — well, 
I was out of sorts, or something. And I have 
such a horrible temper.” 

Really, her demon might have departed from 
her that night. She showed no more temper ; 
she became almost as amiable \as a more com- 
monplace young woman. She made so few 
caustic speeches, that the Misses Tregarthyn 
began to fear that her delicate health had af- 
fected her usual flow of spirits ; and accord- 
ingly mourned over her in secret, not feeling it 
discreet to do so openly. 


170 


Miss Crespigny, 


‘‘ She used to be so spirited,” sighed Miss 
Hetty, over her sewing, to Georgie. ‘‘Don’t 
you observe an alteration in her, my love? 
Sister Clarissa, and sister Millicent, and myself 
really do not know what to think. It would be 
such a comfort to us, if she could only be per- 
suaded to see Dr. Puddifoot. He is such a 
dear man, and so extremely talented.” 

“ Because I have been trying to behave my- 
self decently, they think I am ill,” said Lisbeth, 
smiling a little mournfully. “Just think how I 
must have treated them, Georgie. They are so, 
used to my humors, that, if I am not making 
myself actively unpleasant, they fancy it is be- 
cause I have not the strength to do it. If I 
were to snub Aunt Hetty, and snap at Aunt 
Clarissa, I believe they would shed tears of 

'joy." 


Miss Crespigny. 


171 


, CHAPTER XVIIL 

YOU THINK I HAVE A SECRET. 

A WEEK or SO after Anstruthers^ departure 
Georgie decided that her visit must come to 
an end. Mamma was not so very well, and 
poor papa had a touch of his old enemy, the 
gout ; and, really she had been away from 
home a long time. Did not Lisbeth think that 
they had better return to London, even though 
Pen'yllan was still as delightful as ever? 

Then they had a surprise indeed. 

Lisbeth, who had been listening, in a rather 
absent manner, aroused herself to astonish 
them. 

I think,*' she said, that if you do not 
mind making the journey alone, Georgie, I 
should like to stay in Pen’yllan this winter.’* 

‘Mn Pen’yllan?** cried Georgie. “All win- 
ter, Lisbeth ? ** 

“At Pen’yllan? Here? With us?” cried 
Miss Millicent, and Miss Hetty, and Miss Cla- 
rissa, in chorus. 

“Yes,” answered Lisbeth, in her most non- 
committal fashion. “At Pen’yllan, Aunt 


172 Miss Crespigny, 

Hetty. Here, Aunt Millicent. With you, 
Aunt Clarissa.'* 

The Misses Tregarthyn became quite pale. 
They glanced at each other, and shook their 
heads, ominously. This portended something 
dreadful, indeed. 

My love," faltered Miss Clarissa. 

^^What?" interposed Lisbeth. Won't you 
let me stay? Are you tired of me? I told 
you that you would be, you know, before I 
came." 

Oh, my dear ! " protested Miss Clarissa. 
‘‘ How can you ? Tired of you ? Sister Hetty, 
sister Millicent! Tired of her?" 

^^We only thought, my love, that it would 
be so dull to one used to — to the brilliant vor- 
tex of London society," ended Miss Millicent, 
rather grandly. 

‘‘ But if I think that it will not," said Lisbeth. 

I am tired of the ‘ brilliant vortex of London 
society.' " 

She got up from her chair, and went and 
stood by Georgie, at the window, looking out. 

Yes," she said, almost as if speaking to her- 
self, I think I should like to stay." 

The end of it was, that she did stay. She 
wrote to Mrs. Despard, that very day, announ- 
cing her intention of remaining. Georgie, in 


173 


Miss Crespigny. 

packing her trunks, actually shed a few silent 
tears among her ruffs and ribbons. To her 
mind, this was a sad termination to her happy 
visit. She knew that it must mean something 
serious, that there must be some powerful mo- 
tive at the bottom of such a resolution. If 
Lisbeth would only not be so reserved. If it 
was only a little easier to understand her. 

^^We shall miss you very much, Lisbeth,’/ 
she ventured, mournfully. 

Not more than I shall miss you,” an- 
swered Lisbeth, who at the ' time stood near, 
watching her as she knelt before the box she 
was packing. 

Georgie paused in her task, to look up doubt- 
fully. 

Then why will you do it ? ” she said. You 
— you must have a reason.” 

Yes,” said Lisbeth, I have a reason.” 

The girl's eyes still appealed to her ; so she 
went on, with a rather melancholy smile : 

I have two reasons — perhaps more. Pen yl- 
lan agrees with me, and I do not want to go 
back to town yet. I am going to take a rest. 
I must need one, or Aunt Clarissa would not 
find so much fault with my appearance. I 
don't want to ^ go off on my looks,' before my 
time, and you know they are always telling 


1/4 Crespigny, 

me I am pale and thin. Am I pale and thin, 
Georgie ? 

^^Yes/' confessed Georgie, “you are,^^ and 
she gave her a troubled look. 

“ Then/' returned Lisbeth, “ there is all the 
more reason that I should rusticate. Perhaps, by 
the spring, I shall be red and fat, like Miss Rosa- 
mond Puddifoot,” with a little laugh. “And 
I shall have taken to tracts, and soup-kitchens, 
and given up the world, and wear a yellow bon- 
net, and call London a ‘vortex of sinful plea- 
sure,' as she does. Why, my dear Georgie, 
what is the matter?" 

The fact was, that a certain incongruity in 
her beloved Lisbeth's looks and tone, had so 
frightened Georgie, and touched her susceptible 
heart, that the tears had rushed to her eyes, 
and she was filled with a dolorous pity. 

“ You are not — you are not happy," she cried 
all at once. “You are not, or you would not 
speak in that queer, satirical way. I wish you 
would be a little — a little more — kind, Lisbeth." 

Lisbeth's look was a positively guilty one. 

“ Kind ! " she exclaimed. “ Kind, Georgie ! " 

Having gone so far, Georgie could not easily 
draw back, and was fain to go on, though she 
became conscious that she had placed herself 
in a very trying position. 


Miss Crespigny» 


175 


‘‘ It IS not kind to keep everything to your- 
self so closely/’ she said, tremulously. ‘^As 
if we did not care for you, or could not com- 
prehend ” 

She stopped, because Lisbeth frightened her 
again. She became so pale, that it was impos- 
sible to say anything more. Her great, dark 
eyes dilated, as if with a kind of horror, at some- 
thing. 

^‘You — you think I have a secret,” she in- 
terrupted her, with a hollow-sounding laugh. 

And you are determined to make a heroine 
out of me, instead of allowing me to enjoy my 
‘nerves’ in peace. You don’t comprehend 
‘nerves,’ that is clear. You are running at a 
red rag, Georgie, my dear. It is astonishing 
how prone you good, tender-hearted people 
are to run at red rags, and toss, and worry 
them.” 

It was plain that she would never betray 
herself. She would hold at arm’s-length even 
the creature who loved her best, and was most 
worthy of her confidence. It was useless to 
try to win her to any revelation of her feelings. 

Georgie fell to at her packing again, with 
a very melancholy consciousness of the fact, 
that she had done no good by losing control 
over her innocent emotions, and might have 


176 


Miss Crespigny. 


done harm. It had pained her inexpressibly 
to see that quick dread of self-betrayal, which 
had announced itself in the sudden loss of 
color, and the odd expression in her friend’s 
eyes. 

She does not love me as I love her,” was 
her pathetic, mental conclusion. ‘‘ If she did, 
she would not be so afraid of me.” 

When Lisbeth bade her good-by, at the lit- 
tle railway station, the girl’s heart quite failed 
her. 

‘‘ What shall I say to mamma and papa ? ” 
she asked. 

Tell them that Pen’yllan agrees with me so 
well that I don’t like to leave it for the present,” 
was Lisbeth’s answer. “ And tell Mrs. Esmond 
that I will write to her myself.” 

‘‘And — ” in timid desperation — “and Hec- 
tor, Lisbeth ? ” 

“ Hector?” rather sharply. “Why Hector? 
What has he to do with the matter? But 
stay ! ” shrugging her shoulders. “ I suppose 
it would be only civil. Tell him — tell him — 
that Aunt Clarissa sends her love, and hopes 
he will take care of his lungs.” 

And yet, though this irreverent speech was 
her last, and she made it in her most malicious 
manner, the delicate, dark face, and light, small 


Miss Crespigny, 


177 


figure, had a strangely desolate look to Georgie, 
as, when the train bore her away, she caught 
her last farewell glimpse of them on the plat- 
form of the small station. 

Lisbeth stood before her mirror, that night, 
slowly brushing up her hair, and feeling the 
silence of the small chamber acutely. 

It would never have done,’' she said to her- 
self. It would never have done at all. This 
is the better way — better, by far.” 

But it was hard enough to face, and it was 
fantastic enough to think that she had really 
determined to face it. In a minute or so she 
sat down, with her brush in her hand, and her 
hair loose upon her shoulders, to confront the 
facts once more. She was going to spend her 
winter at Pen’yllan. She had given up the 
flesh-pots of Egypt. She was going to break- 
fast at eight, dine at two when there was no 
company, take five o’clock tea, and spend the 
evening with the Misses Tregarthyn. She 
would stroll in the garden, walk on the beach, 
and take Miss Clarissa’s medicines meekly. At 
this point a new view of the case presented 
itself to her, and she began to laugh. Mustard 
baths, and Dr. Puddifoot’s prescriptions, in 
incongruous connection with her own personal 
knowledge of things, appeared all at once so 


12 


178 


Miss Crespigny. 


ludicrous, that they got the better of her, and 
she laughed until she found herself crying ; and 
then, angry as she was at her own weakness, 
the tears got the better of her, too, for a short 
time. If she had never been emotional before, 
she was emotional enough in these days. She 
could not pride herself upon her immovability 
now. She felt, constantly, either passionate 
anger against herself, or passionate contempt, 
or a passionate eagerness to retrieve her lost 
self-respect. What could she do ? How could 
she rescue herself? This would not do ! This 
would not do ! She must make some new 
struggle ! This sort of thing she was saying 
feverishly from morning until night. 

Secretly she had almost learned to detest 
Pen’yllan. Pen’yllan, she told herself, had 
been the cause of all her follies ; but it was 
safer at present than London. If she stayed 
at Pen’yllan long enough, sufely she could 
wear herself out, or rather wear out her fan- 
cies. A less resolute young woman would, in 
all likelihood, have trifled weakly with her dan- 
ger ; but it was not so with Lisbeth. She had 
not trifled with it from the first : she had held 
herself stubbornly aloof from any little self- 
indulgence ; and now she was harder upon 
herself than ever. She would have died cheer- 


Miss Crespigny. 


179 


fully, rather than have betrayed herself, and if 
she could die, surely she could endure a dull 
winter. 

Her moral condition was so far improved, 
however, that she did not visit her small mise- 
ries upon her aunts, as she would have done 
in the olden days. Her behavior was really 
creditable, under the circumstances. She 
played chess with Miss Clarissa in the evening, 
or read aloud, or sung for them, and began to 
take a whimsical pleasure in their delight at 
her condescension. They were so easily. de- 
lighted, that she felt many a sting of shame at 
her former delinquencies. She had an almost 
morbid longing to be good,” like Georgie, 
and she practiced this being good ” upon the 
three spinsters, with a persistence at which she 
herself both laughed and cried when she was 
alone. Her first letter to Georgie puzzled the 
girl indescribably, and yet touched her some- 
how. She, who believed her beloved Lisbeth 
to be perfect among women, could not quite 
understand the psychological crisis through 
which she was passing, and yet could not fail 
to feel that something unusual was happening. 

I take Aunt Clarissa’s medicine with a mild 
regularity which alarms her,” the letter an- 
nounced. She thinks I must be going into a 


i8o Miss Crespigny. 

consumption, and tearfully consults Dr. Puddi-. 
foot in private. The cook is ordered to pre- 
pare particularly nourishing soups for dinner, 
and if my appetite is not something startling, 
everybody turns pale. And yet all this does 
not seem to me as good a joke as it would 
have done years ago. I see another side to it. 
I wonder how it is that they can be so fond of 
me. For my part, I am sure I could never 
have been fond of Lisbeth Crespigny.'' 


Miss Crespigny, 


i8i 


CHAPTER XIX. 

AND THAT WAS THE END OF IT. 

The roses fell, one by one, in Miss Clarissa’s 
flower beds, and so at last did the palest au- 
tumn-bloom ; the leaves dropped from the 
trees, and the winds from the sea began to blow 
across the sands, in chilly gusts. But Lisbeth 
stayed bravely on. Rainy days dragged by 
wearily enough, and cold ones made their ap- 
pearance, but she did not give up even when 
Mrs. Despard wondered, and Georgie implored 
in weekly epistles. The winter routine of the 
Tregarthyn household was not exciting, but it 
was a sort of safeguard. Better dullness than 
something worse ! Perhaps, in time, by spring, 
it might be different. And yet she could not 
say that she found her state of mind improv- 
ing. And as to her body — well. Miss Clarissa 
might well sigh over her in secret. If she had 
been pale and thin before, she had not gained 
flesh and color. She persisted in her long 
walks in desperation, and came home after 
them, looking haggard and hollow-eyed. She 
wandered about the garden, in self-defense, and 
was no less tired. She followed Dr. Puddi- 


Miss Crespigny, 


182 

foot's directions to the letter, and, to the 
Misses Tregarthyn's dismay, was not improved. 
In fact, as that great man. Dr. Puddifoot, ob- 
served, ‘‘ Something was radically wrong." 

It was an unequal, miserable-enough strug- 
gle, but it had its termination ; and, like all 
such terminations, it was an abrupt, unexpect- 
ed, almost fantastic one. Lisbeth had never 
thought of such an end to her self-inflicted pen- 
ance. No such possibility had presented itself 
to her mind. It was not her way to romance, 
and she had confined herself to realities. 

Sitting at her bedroom window, one chill, 
uncomfortable December day, she arrived at a 
fanciful caprice. It was as raw and miserable 
a day as one would, or rather would not, wish 
to see. The wind blew over the sea in gusts, 
the gulls flew languidly under the gray sky, a 
few dead leaves swirled about in eddies in the 
road, and yet this caprice took possession of 
Lisbeth, as she looked out, and appreciated the 
perfection of desolateness. Since Georgie had 
left Pen'yllan, she had never once been near 
the old tryst ing-place. Her walks had always 
been in the opposite direction, and now it sud- 
denly occurred to her, that she would like to 
go and see how things would look in her pre- 
sent mood. In five minutes from the time the 


Miss Crespigny, 


183 


fancy seized her, Miss Clarissa caught a glimpse 
of something through the parlor window, which 
made her utter an exclamation : 

Lisbeth ! she said. ‘‘Out again, and on 
such a day ! Dear me ! I do trust she is well 
wrapped up.'' 

Lispeth made her way against the damp, 
chill wind, with a touch of positively savage 
pleasure in her own discomfort. The sands 
were wet, and unpleasant to walk on ; and she 
was not sorry. What did it matter ? She was 
in the frame of mind to experience a sort of 
malicious enjoyment of outward miseries. The 
tryst looked melancholy enough when she 
reached it. She made her way to the nook, 
behind the sheltering rocks, and stood there, 
looking out to sea. She had not expected to 
find the place wearing its summer aspect, but 
she was scarcely prepared to face such desolate- 
ness. Everything was gray — gray tossing sea, 
gray screaming gulls, gray lowering sky. 

“ It would have been better to have stayed 
at home,'’ she said. 

Still she could not make up her mind to turn 
back at once, and lingered a little, leaning 
against a rock, shivering, and feeling dreary ; 
and so it was that the man who was approach- 
ing first caught sight of her figure. 


Miss Crespigny, 


184 

Lisbeth did not see this man. She did not 
care to see either man or woman, at pre- 
sent. The gulls suited her better than hu- 
man beings, and she believed herself to be 
utterly alone, until footsteps upon the sand, 
quite near, made her turn with an impatient 
start. 

The man — he was not a yard from her side — 
raised his hat and stood still. The man was 
Hector Anstruthers. 

For a moment neither uttered a word. Lis- 
beth thought her heart must have stopped 
beating. She had turned cold as marble. 
When she could control herself sufficiently to 
think at all, she thought of Georgie. 

‘‘What is the matter?’' she exclaimed. “ Is 
somebody ill ? Georgie ? ” 

“ Georgie is quite well,” he answered. 

Then he came close, and held out his hand, 
with a strange, melancholy smile. 

“ I ask pardon for alarming you,” he said. 
“ I ask pardon for coming without an excuse ; 
but I have no excuse. Won’t you shake 
hands with me, Lisbeth ? ” 

She got through the ceremony as quickly as 
possible, and then drew back, folding her shawl 
about her. She was shivering with something, 
besides cold. If she had only been safe at 


Miss Crespigny. 185 

home. If nobody was in danger, what on 
earth had he come for? 

I was a little startled/' she said. Pen’yl- 
lan is not very attractive to people, as a rule, 
in winter, and it seemed the most natural thing 
that Georgie was ill, and had sent you to me.” 
Then, after a little pause, and a sidelong glance 
at him, ‘‘You look as if you had been ill your- 
self.” 

He certainly did. He was thin, and hag- 
gard, and care-worn. His eyes were danger- 
ously bright, and he had a restless air. He 
was not so sublime a dandy, either, as he had 
been ; there was even a kind of negligence 
about him. 

“ Aunt Clarissa must have been very much 
alarmed when she saw you,” Lisbeth pro- 
ceeded, trying to get up a creditable smile. 

“ I have not seen Miss Clarissa,” he answered. 
“ I came here first.” 

This was so ominous, that Lisbeth suc- 
cumbed. She knew, when he said this, that 
he did not intend to keep up appearances. 
But she made one more poor effort. 

“ Then, perhaps, we had better go home,” 
she remarked. 

“No,” he returned, quickly. “I have some- 
thing to say.” 


Miss Crespigny, 


1 86 

She felt herself losing strength. But what 
did it matter, let him say what he would? 
Perhaps it was something about Georgie. She 
had a dreary feeling that she was ready for 
anything. 

Go on ! ” she said. 

Oh ! '' he cried, in bitter, impatient re- 
signation of her stoicism. ‘‘ Arm yourself 
against me ; I know you will do that. Sneer 
at my folly ; I am prepared for that, too. But 
I shall speak. It is Fate. I am a fool, but I 
must speak.’' 

Was it to say this that you came here ? ” 
interposed Lisbeth. 

I came because I could not stay away. You 
are my Fate, I tell you,” almost angrily. You 
will not let me rest. When I kissed your hands, 
that la^t night, I gave myself up to my mad- 
ness. I had tried to persuade myself that I 
had no love for you ; but that cured me, and 
showed me how I had deceived myself. I 
have never ceased to love you, from the first ; 
and you ” 

His words died upon his lips. She looked 
as he had never seen her look before. She 
leaned against the rock, as if she needed sup- 
port. Suddenly her eyes and lashes were wet, 
and she began to tremble slightly. He checked 


Miss Crespigny, 187 

himself, full of swift remorse. What a rough 
brute he was ! 

Don’t ! ” he said. I did not mean to 
frighten you.” 

She lifted her eyes, piteously ; her lips 
parted, as if she was going to speak ; but she 
did not speak. She was even weaker than she 
had thought. She had never been so helpless 
and shaken before. She shrank from him, and 
drooping her face upon the rock, burst into 
hysterical tears. 

He did not pause to ask himself what it 
meant. He did not understand women’s 
nerves. He only comprehended that she had 
given way, that everything was changed, that 
she was unstrung and weeping. In a moment 
he had her in his arms, exclaiming, passionately : 

‘^Lisbeth! Lisbeth ! ” And then the Ihtle 
straw hat, with its blue ribbon, slipping away 
from the small, pale face, that lay upon his 
breast, he bent and covered it,, this small, pale, 
tear-wet face, with reckless kisses. 

For the moment he did not care what came 
next, nor what doom he brought upon himself, 
he was so mad with long pent-up love and 
misery. He found the little hand under the 
shawl, too, and fell to kissing that, also, and 
would not let it go. 


i88 


Miss Cresptgny, 


Don’t be cruel to me, Lisbeth ! ” he pleaded, 
when she tried to draw it away ; and she was 
forced to let it remain. Don’t be cruel to 
me,” he said, and still held this hand, when 
she released herself at last, and stood up, mis- 
erable and shame-faced, yet far less miserable 
than she had been. 

It — it is you^vho are cruel!” she faltered. 

What am I to say to you! You have left 
me nothing to say.” 

She hung back, half afraid of his vehe- 
mence. He had begun with bitter ravings, 
and in five minutes had ended by crush- 
ing her in his arms. It was her punishment 
that she should be so humbled and brought 
down. 

‘‘ Say nothing,” he cried. Let me say all. 
I love you. It is Fate.” 

She could not help seeing the fantastic side 
of this, and she smiled, a little, daring smile, 
though she hung her head. 

‘‘ Are you — proposing to me? ” she ventured, 
hoping to retrieve herself. 

He could not stand that, but she would not 
let him burst out again, and leave her no chance 
to assert her privilege to struggle at retaining 
the upper hand. 

^‘You ^pld me that you came in spite of 


Miss Crespigny. 1 89 

yourself, because you could not stay away. 
Was it true? ” she asked. 

‘‘Yes.^^ 

She could not help feeling a glow of triumph, 
and it shone in her eyes. 

I am glad of that,'' she said. I am glad. 
It saves me so much." 

^^And I may stay?" he Exclaimed, in his 

old, impetuous fashion. Lisbeth " 

Though he held her hand fast, she managed 
to stoop down, under pretense of rescuing the 
blue-ribboned hat from the sand. 

‘‘You need not go," she answered. 

And that was the end of^it. 

The three Misses Tregarthyn looked at each 
in blank dismay, when these two walked into 
the parlor, an hour after. But Hector grasped 
his nettle with a matter-of-fact boldness, for 
which Lisbeth intensely admired him in secret. 

“I went out on the beach to find Miss 
Crespigny, and I found her," he announced. 
“ Here she is. Miss Clarissa, Miss Millicent, 
Miss Hetty! She has promised to marry me. 
Oblige us with your blessing." 

The trio fell upon their beloved Lisbeth, and 
embraced, as they had done on the previous 
occasion ; but this time she bore it better. 

That night Lisbeth sat up until one o'clock, 


190 


Miss Crespigny. 


writing a long letter to Georgie Esmond, and 
trying, in a strangely softened and penitent 
mood, to be open and straightforward for once. 

I am going to marry Hector Anstruthers, 
and try to be better,’' she wrote. You knov/ 
what I mean, when I say ‘ better.’ I mean 
that I want to make Lisbeth Anstruthers a far 
different creature from Lisbeth Crespigny. Do 
you think I ever can be a ‘ good ’ woman, 
Georgie — like you and your mother? If I ever 
am one, it will be you two whom I must thank.” 
And as she wrote this, she shed not unhappy 
tears over it. 

Perhaps,” she said, Love will make me 
as tender as other women.” 

And this Love did. 


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All of the little household are hardly less excellent than 
this inimitable character ; Pomona, the servant who looks at 
life through the medium of dime-novels, being almost as 
worthy of an enduring celebrity as her mistress. 


The above hook for sale by all booksellers^ or will be sent^ prepaid^ upon 
receipt of price by 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, Publishers, 

743 AKD 74S Broadway, New York. 


^ . isrjffiWn BOOK \ 

By tlie Author of That Liass o’ IiOwrle’».’> 

SURLY TIM 

AND OTHER STORIES. 

By MRS. FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT, 

Author of “ That Lass o' Lo7vrie*s** "■ 

One volume, small i2mo. Cloth extra, $1.25. 


The volume includes eight of Mrs. Burnett’s shorter stories which t^avc 
appeared in the magazines during the last few years. It is needless to say 
that these have been among the most popular tales that have lately been 
written. Surly Tim (told in Lancashire dialect), which gives the title 
to the book, is perhaps better known than any short story yet published 
in Scribner’s. 

The present collection, including Esmeralda^ Lodusky,- Le Monsieur 
de la Petite Dame, etc., shows that the author can be successful in other 
scenes than those, the treatment of which has gained her so much critical 
•praise and such wide popularity. 

^ CRITIOAIi NOTICES. 

They are powerful and pathetic stories, and will touch the sympathies of all readers.” 
— The Co7nmon7vealthy Boston. 

“ A good service has been rendered to all lovers of good fiction by the publication of 
these stories in this permanent form.” — The Evening Mail. 

Mrs. Byrnett has. made for herself a reputation which places her in the front rank of 
female novelists.”' — The Baptist Weekly. 

“The authoress has taken her place as one of the best novelists of our time, and these 
stories are interesting as showing the steps up which she has ascended tQ l^er acknow- 
ledged eminence.” — The Advance, ^ 

‘ Each of these narratives have a distinct spirit, and can be profitably read by all 
classes of people. They are told not only with true art but with deep pathos.” — Boston 
Post. 

“ The stories collected in the present volume are uncommonly vigorous and truthful 
stories of human nature.” — Chicago Tribune. 

“ Each story is very readable, and the whole volume will be well received as it well 
deserves.” — The Chi. Instructor, Phila. ^ _ 


The above book for sale by all booksellers, or 7vill be sent, post or express 
charges paid, u-bon receipt of the price by 'the publishers. 


CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, 

743 AND 745 Broadway, New York 


^Thi. orisrinal noirei that has appeared tn thii •:ouHtry jer matt} 

rears.** —Phil. Press. 


THAT LASS 0’ LOWRIE’S 

By FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. 


PRESS NOTICES 

•*The publication of a story like ‘That Lass o’ Lowrie’s’ is a red-letter day ia 
the world of literature.” — JV. V. Herald. 

“We know of no more powerful work from a woman’s hand in th« 
English language, not even excepting the best of George Eliot’s.” — Boston Trans'-ript. 

“ It creates a sensation among book readers.” — Hartford Thnes. 

“The novel is one of the very best of recent fictions, and the novelist is here- 
after a person of rank and consideration in letters.” — Hartford Courant. 

“The author might have named her book ‘Joan Lowrie, Lady,* and it is 
worthy a place in the family library beside Miss Muloch’s ‘John Hali- 
fax, Gentleman,’ and George Eliot’s ‘Adam Bede.’” — Boston Watchman. 

“The story is one of mark, and let none of our readers who enjoy the truest 
artistic work overlook it.” — Congregatienalist. 

“Is written with great dramatic power.” — N. Y. Observer. 

Of absorbing interest, and is as unique in its style and its incidents as it is 
entertaining.” — Worcester Spy. 

“ It *3 a tale of English pit life, and graphic, absorbing, irresistible, from 
first page to last.” — Boston Commo7L7vealth. 

“Itis'a healthy, vigorous story, such as would find a warm welcome in any 
household.” — Baltimore Bulletin. 

•.“Unlike most of the current works of fiction, this novel is a study. It cannot be 
sifted at a glance, nor fully understood at a single reading, so fruitful and com 
prehensive is its word and character painting.” — Boston Post. 


Price, Paper Covers, 90 cents; or SI. 50 Extra Cloth 


SCRIBNER’S SONS, 

f i ^ Ei 743 and 745 Broadway, New York. 


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